Time in a Bottle
by PengYn
Summary: James returns to the real world, trying to deal with his grief and still hold on to his memories of Juliet.Meanwhile, 30 years earlier, a series of sabotages in Dharmaville leads him to suspect the one person he doesn't want to believe could have done it.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Okay, this is not going to get complicated _at all _:D This will be a flashback/flashforward fic because a) I really wanted to tackle post-island James but b) it would be helluva depressing to do it as a stand alone. This is, essentially, a Days of Dharma fic with little glimpses into James' life after he returns home. Also, apologies for having to use little x's as page breaks but for some reason this site no longer seems to want to format symbols.

**Prologue**

It was a warm, dry day in January when Ajira Flight 316 landed on a dusty airstrip about 100 miles south of Calama, Chile. For days afterwards, the locals were still speculating about how an airplane held together by duct-tape and spit had ever made it off the ground, let alone found its way to a cardboard-box airport in the middle of nowhere.

It was the most exciting thing that had happened in ten years – the previous being when a small cargo plane had stopped to refuel and accidentally left behind twelve crates of Scotch whiskey. Whether or not it was a genuine accident and not a blatant absconding, was more of a technicality and in the middle of the Atacama Desert, details were not really important. For many months to come, the stories filtered up and down from city to city - even crossing the border into Peru. It was bed-time fodder for children, invented tales about how such an unlikely group of people came by this backwater lot near the end of the earth.

_xxx_

Juan Santos – the fork-lift operator-cum-airport manager – lit a cigarette and studied the group curiously. Ninety minutes earlier a thin but not unhealthy looking man, with lashes as thick and dark as midnight, had approached him, arms outstretched – placating – and spoken with him in Spanish. Juan had managed to ascertain that their plane had been pulled off course during a freak storm and that the pilot – who was sporting a deep cut to his forehead and looked like he'd seen better days – had lost all instrument control on-route to Guam. Juan found it difficult enough to understand how a Boeing 737 taking off from Los Angeles ended up over 9000 miles south-east of its destination but even more incredibly had _landed _almost two full weeks after taking off. He shook his head and tossed his cigarette to the ground. Some things were better left unexplained.

He'd given the pilot – a burly man named Lapidus – access to a telephone and watched, from a respectable distance, as he'd called the authorities in his own country. He found it interesting that as a group they sat apart and yet had seemed to confer with each other that none but the pilot and the Spaniard should speak. There were two women, now sitting in the shadow of a staircase, whispering to one another. Why they were sitting on the floor and not the chairs just to the right of them he didn't understand, but then it wasn't his place to ask. Both looked as if they'd been crying.

The fifth member of this motley crew was a Chinese man - he was currently downing a dusty bottle of Coke. Juan refrained from telling him that the last time that vending machine had been restocked, was before he'd been given the responsibility of maintaining the airport – which would be seven years ago this October. The Chinese man didn't look as if he'd care anyway – he had, after all, just successfully rescued the bottle from where it had been lodged for the past three years.

Juan cast his eyes from the cheerful Coke-Liberator to the man sitting a few feet from him. He was leaning with his back up against the vending machine, head bent, knees pulled up, with his sandy hair falling down his face. Even without seeing into this man's eyes, Juan thought that this had to be the most broken man he'd seen, in a very long time.


	2. Stages of Grief: Broken

**Chapter One**

**Stages of Grief: Broken**

_January 2008_

He's vaguely aware of the people around him. Of Lapidus - standing in a Plexiglas office spinning a yarn, of Richard - walking around touching everything he can as if for the first time, of Miles – who's all but smashed open the rusted vending machine to get to a drink that looks like it's been birthed by the desert itself, and of Kate and Claire - the former trying to convince herself that she's okay whilst convincing the latter that she's not crazy – neither of which he believes. He doesn't care. There's a small part of him that believes he should, but he just can't bring himself to resurrect it.

He's exhausted.

It was only hours ago he'd been staring out the window of an airplane, watching the Island getting smaller and smaller – the Island that had captured him, the Island that had kept him, the Island where Juliet was buried.

_I wanted you to be able to go home_, she'd said.

_You _were_ my home, Blondie_.

_xxx_

Once Lapidus had announced that they would be making a rather abrupt landing somewhere in South America, they'd all looked to him for a story. How would they explain the sudden re-appearance of a plane that – for all intents and purposes – had gone missing two weeks before? How would they explain the absence of a significant amount of passengers and the presence of a few new ones? Moreover how in the world would you begin to explain why two people who _died_ in the crash of Oceanic Flight 815 three years earlier were _here_, alive and well, aboard another doomed flight? None of them had had any answers and it was when Miles turned in his seat and said "LaFleur?" that he realized it was up to him to figure it all out. He'd conned his way into the Dharma Initiative and if he could do that, he could con himself back into the land of the living.

He didn't have the energy but he said it anyway: That Lapidus would do most of the talking and Richard, most of the translating. They would land somewhere remote and Lapidus would tell the US authorities that the plane had crashed on a deserted Island, location unknown. Whilst on this island they discovered the two passengers from the crash of 815, who had been living there for the past three years. He and the survivors had repaired things as best they could and took their chances in the air. He would make no mention of Richard or Miles, both of whom would make their own way back to the United States with a little help from the former's connections. If the locals needed convincing – well – that's what currency was for.

James Ford buried their tale beneath a half truth, the cover of which was course and vague. Oceanic Airlines thrust a settlement package at him and he found himself with more money that he'd ever had his entire life - if he wanted to, he never had to work again. It was ironic that he was covering up the reality so that the rest of the world would believe it - and in doing so he felt as if he was betraying her, betraying her memory.

_xxx_

He collapses on to the cool and unfamiliar sheets of a hotel bed and closes his eyes. Was it really only a week ago that he'd woken, tangled up in their sheets, her body spooning his own? Was that night really the last time he would ever make love to her, feel her body beneath his, hear her cry out his name and then whisper it once more as he joined her? Was that the end of everything that was, when the fucking phone rang early that morning? Would the last time he held her, kissed her, spoke to her – be in the dark confines of a destroyed Dharma station surrounded by cold steel and blood, her blood. And when was the first time? It was suddenly important that he remember, here in the quiet, but he can't bring himself to try.

Juliet was gone. She was gone and there was nothing left to connect himself to her. There was no proof of their life together.

Now it's just him - alone with his grief and his guilt.


	3. Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again

**A/N: **If you _didn't_ read 'Cabin Fever' here's what you should know - it literally rained the entire way through that fic. If you _did_ read it - I'm picking up _exactly _where I left off.

**Chapter Two - Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again**

_April 1975 _

Juliet woke to fingers tracing lightly across her hand. She opened her eyes slightly, sunlight greeting her from the windows. It had been days since she'd seen any sunshine at all, but the squalls that had dominated the Island for more than a week seemed to have finally given up and gone elsewhere. She found it amusing that she had been praying for days for a reprieve only so she could get out and get away from the tension between her and James - and now here she was, curled up against him on the sofa, cursing the sun for its return. Allowing her fingers to lace with his own, she ran her thumb over his, examining his hand. It was tanned and slightly course. _Strong,_ she thought, just seconds before images of last night flooded through her waking mind. _Hands_ – touching, stroking, caressing, pinning, exploring, holding, ripping shirts off before rationalization could return. What would have happened if Miles and Jin hadn't picked that particular moment to karaoke Otis Redding right outside their front door? She blushed involuntarily.

"Mornin,'" he whispered.

Juliet hoped he couldn't feel the increase in her heartbeat, but she knew she'd never be so lucky as to have him miss the color in her cheeks. Since she was doomed anyway and he'd already discovered that the effect he had on her was more than just a "Hey, you're my roommate" kind of thing, she rolled over to face him. The sofa wasn't wide and when your noses were that acquainted on a cell-to-cell level, well, there was very little the eyes could miss. She studied him, her expression neutral. He had a slight smirk to his lips that told her he didn't buy her neutrality, but she'd be damned if she was going to let him win. She watched as his eyebrows rose slightly in acknowledgment that this was some sort of duel – and then he smiled. _Dammit_, Juliet thought, bringing a hand up to trace his dimples. Whatever she was thinking didn't matter anymore. This was the first day that rain hadn't been coming down in torrents and James would have to get up and spend all of it checking the security of every single Dharma station and facility on the Island. If she didn't want to spend the entire day with her stomach in knots, she was just going to have to let him dismantle her for a few minutes. As his lips found hers and his tongue began a slow and thorough examination of her mouth, she had to admit that there were - after all - far worse things.

_xxx_

When he got in, it was well after dark. There was a note on the fridge labeled "dinner" and an open bottle of red wine on the counter, an empty glass standing next to it. He wolfed down the plate of chicken and vegetables, washed it down with the merlot, then took a longer than necessary shower. His day had consisted of driving the jeep from one end of the Island to the other, making sure that nothing – translation: the hostiles – had taken advantage of the Dharma Initiative's brief lapse in activity. There was nothing out of place that he could see and that _actually_ made it worse, because it meant that he could've spent the entire day getting to know Juliet a _lot_ better. He patted himself down with a towel but didn't dry off completely – no rain meant that the humidity was back and it seemed in a mood to give no mercy. Pulling on a vest and boxers, he made his way down the hall and walked in to Juliet's room. He could see bare leg sticking out from beneath the covers and realized that she too, had exchanged sweats for shorts. He turned to go when he heard her stir.

"James?"

He double-backed towards her and sat down on the bed. "Hey. Did I wake ya?" he whispered.

Juliet made a noise somewhere between a word and a sigh. "Sorta."

James moved the hair out of her face, "Sorry."

"'s'okay," she replied. "I never sleep well when you're out anyway."

"Oh really?" he grinned, teasing her.

Juliet swatted at him, aiming for his chest and hitting his knee. He grabbed her hand – more to ward off another attack than anything else – and found that she was using her own to pull him down next to her. She nestled against him, somewhere in-between sleep and awake, her head coming to rest just below his.

"Mm, cold," she breathed.

"That'd be the shower I had," he told her, running his fingers down her back.

"Nice," she replied.

"Well I'm glad you approve."

"Mm," she managed, before falling asleep against his chest.


	4. Yesterday Once More

**Chapter Three - "Yesterday Once More"**

Sundays in Dharmaville were no different from Sundays the world over. Aside from those on the rotating security roster, everybody else had no problem getting in some R&R. Barbeques were lit, kids pounced on each other in the playground and those fortunate enough not to be _responsible_ for any kids, got to lie in bed until noon if they wanted to. James was an early riser by nature – even more so now that someone had gone ahead and made him Chief of Security. Normally he would've gotten up, maybe grabbed a glass of orange juice before burying his nose in a book for a few hours. But _this_ morning, moving was the _last_ thing he wanted to do.

Juliet was still fast asleep - hair sprawled out across her pillow, body slightly curled towards him and her arms all tangled up in the comforter. He wasn't sure if watching her was inappropriate but he figured that since eighty percent of their day was made up of staring contests, the best time for him to get started was when she wasn't aware that he _had_.

It was something he'd probably pay for later.

A small sound escaped her lips. Erring on the side of caution, he grabbed her book off the nightstand and pretended to read. Damned if he knew why he was watching her anyway – he wasn't the sentimental type. She was the first person in a long time that hadn't up and run out on him first thing in the morning - first woman since Cassidy in fact, before he told her who he was and what he did for a living. Even Kate, she hadn't wanted any of this sorta life – hell – she couldn't even stay the night in a goddamn tent without her flight response kicking in. But that, he supposed, could also have been down to the fact that she _cared_ whether or not Jack would know she'd just fucked his adversary not fifty feet from him. He was still a bit bitter about it, if he was being honest, but he knew by the way she'd bolted from New Othertown that if she ever did want to settle down and lead the quiet life – it sure as hell wasn't with him.

Juliet shifted a little and he felt guilty for thinking about Kate. He didn't know what this was, exactly, this thing with Juliet. He didn't know how enemies became begrudged comrades became leaders became friends became whatever it was that was going on between them now. They'd been left behind and their pain – which up until then had been their own – suddenly became shared. They were just a couple of lost blondes looking for a home and they'd found it with each other.

He was staring into space, book hanging heavily in one hand and when he snapped himself out of it he realized that Juliet was awake and observing him.

"Bet I'd get a lot of pennies for your thoughts," she told him, her voice still dry from sleep.

"I was just... thinkin' about this book..." he replied, unconvincingly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, looks complicated. Didn't understand... somethin'."

"It's upside down."

His heart skipped a beat. "That'd be why," he managed.

She smiled. "What were you thinking about?"

He didn't really know what to say. "Everythin', nothin'."

She sat up next to him. For a second he thought she was going to produce a wrench and twist it out of him. Instead, she cupped the side of his cheek and kissed him tenderly on the corner of his lips.

"Okay," she said. "I'm going to take a shower."

_xxx_

She came back, wrapped up in her towel and he was right where she'd left him. The corners of her mouth twitched.

"Y'know, there's this room up the other end of the hall I think belongs to you."

He smirked, tossing her book aside. "I like yours better."

"Why? Yours gets better light," she replied.

"Maybe, but right now this one has you _in_ it."

Her face registered both delight and surprise and she knew that James had caught it. He took hold of her hand and pulled her towards him, catching her lips with his own and slowly working them apart. They were falling back towards the bed and suddenly he was under her, then above her and everywhere at once. She barely registered that the gasps from her lips were her own, but he was already mapping her weak spots and she was content to let him. One of his hands was slowly working its way up her bare thigh, not quite high enough to render the towel obsolete, but close enough for her to admit she should have put some clothes on first. Dharma cotton was just like any other cotton – there was very little left to the imagination. Juliet tried to reach for his wandering hand, but her body kept trying to convince her she was wasting her time and that if she did then the pleasure of it all would stop. His lips were on the hollow of her throat, working their way up to find her pulse where he spent a lot of time trying to match its rhythm. Her leg was coming up to wrap around his, her fingernails digging into his vest as his hips ground against hers. Somewhere in the back filing cabinet of her mind a voice was saying "too soon" and she had to agree, but she hadn't felt this good in a long time either and she was finding it difficult to stop. James' mouth had found hers again, his tongue sliding slowly alongside hers. She ran her fingers through his hair while he kept on kissing her, unraveling her one move of their lips at a time. When he finally came up for air, she used one of her hands to keep his face just to the side of hers. If she didn't stop him now, she was never going to. He seemed to understand her intent and she was grateful that if he _was_ disappointed, he wasn't showing it.

He was looking at her, his face inches from her own. "You should put some clothes on, Princess. A man could take advantage of you in that thing," he smiled, his eyes indicating her towel.

She smiled back. "I see. Well, I don't usually _keep_ men in my bedroom - I just happened to find one in it today."

"Hm. Well you should tell security about it, I hear the chief is the best they've had. He'll fix the problem."

"I'll bet. But what would such a service cost?"

James grinned, "For you? No charge."

Juliet kissed him full on the mouth and gently pushed him off her. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked back at him. "Huh. I guess I'll just have to find some other way to thank him."


	5. Afternoon Delight

**A/N: To all of you who have left little comments of encouragement along the way, I thank you. It's nice to know someone is reading :-)**

**Chapter 4. "Afternoon Delight"**

Juliet loved the way he felt against her. She loved the taste of him and the way each kiss felt different. Whether he was pressing soft kisses against her neck and shoulders or prising her lips apart hungrily – she had to admit it was all wonderful. Sometimes his lips were so soft against her own it was if she was only imagining them there. Other times their kisses were so forceful, she came away breathless and dizzy.

Each one seemed to start out one way and end in another, leaving her feeling as if every cell in her body had undergone some transformational reawakening. His tongue only had to slide against hers and she'd want his hands anywhere and everywhere all at once.

James was in the habit of catching her off guard – not that she was complaining – she was just trying to remember the last time someone had been so invested in dismantling her. The last person to kiss her was Jack, at the Tempest. At the time she was grateful that someone wanted her around and believed in her enough to give her their trust. And they were nice – the few kisses that he gave her. She'd been relieved that anybody would still want to share any kind of intimacy with her, given the secrets she'd held.

Juliet stacked a plate on the drying rack and placed her hands on the edge of the kitchen sink. She didn't mean to distract herself this way it was merely the natural progression of her thoughts. The kitchen she was standing in was just a few houses down from the kitchen she'd occupy in thirty years – the kitchen where, lonely and uncertain, she'd first kissed Goodwin. _Or _will _kiss Goodwin_, she thought. _Depending on how you look at it._ _It's very confusing being a paradox._

For a long time, Goodwin had always kissed with the air of someone who was always half looking over their shoulder. His feelings were genuine and he certainly spent more time with her than he did with his wife_. I guess that was the problem wasn't it? _He could only be as committed to his kisses as he was to his wife – half there, half somewhere else. But Goodwin was kind to her and gentle - he was a complete one-eighty from her overbearing ex-husband that was for sure. _Edmund. _Edmund could have taken an introductory course to good kissing and still would have come away the world's worst kisser – probably because he would have missed the right door and ended up in introductory to cooking. She liked a good pot roast but if she had to choose between _that_ and being swept off her feet? Well – there wasn't a contest, really. Edmund had kissed with all the warmth of a broken radiator. But she really hadn't known any better.

She laughed softly, partly out of guilt because she'd just been thinking about three different men that definitely weren't James, but also because each of them – in their own way – had had ties to other women. She wondered about James. And about Kate. She was tired of playing second string and she didn't know how she'd react if it were to happen again. She wasn't sure if she could _be_ this intimate and leave her feelings out of it. And she wasn't sure she wanted to.

_xxx_

He came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. She dropped the glass she was holding back into the water and it hit the bottom of the sink with the unmistakable sound of a crack. James parted her hair with a hand and kissed the side of her neck.

"Oops," he murmured.

Juliet smiled and leant against him.

"Glass don't grow on trees, y'know?" he continued.

"Mm, but it does come in on Subs," she replied.

He chuckled and she grinned at the way his chest shook.

"What're you smilin' at, Blondie?" he growled.

She tilted her head back just enough to see into his eyes. Her arms were folded over his, her fingers absentmindedly trailing up and down one of his arms. Thirty seconds of staring later, James decided to curb it for another day – when they were arguing about dirty boots, or toilet paper, or empty cartons of milk – because the more he stared at her mouth, the more irresistible it became. Juliet smirked as his lips sought hers. He knew she'd count this one as a win.

She turned in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and pulling him towards her, all other thoughts escaping her mind with every touch. He was pushing her against the sink and it was all she could do to support his weight. She was clinging to him and kissing him hard and fast. It was if now they'd started, they couldn't stop. He was so caught up in eliminating the spaces between his body and hers that it took him a second longer to realize that the soft grunt from the back of her throat was one of pain as her lower back hit the metal sink. Moving his hands down her back, he settled them where he estimated the sink had hit her and then pulled her with him towards the fridge. Ideally somewhere like the couch would've been better, but the fridge was closer and they didn't have to navigate around any furniture. For once he was grateful about the no-magnets rule because at the speed they hit it, they would have had little plastic and ceramic pieces everywhere. Juliet grinned against his mouth and he knew she was thinking the same.

He kissed the dimple in her cheek, which turned her grin into a giggle. She stopped though, when he trailed his lips along her neck and settled on a spot just below her ear. His hands were just under her shirt, stroking her hips and her eyes closed as she melted against him.

After a few minutes spent exploring the nape of her neck, he could sense her pulling back again. He'd worked steadily to make her lose control and just when he thought he'd pushed her to the edge it was like she'd found a second wind. She pulled away, not far enough to make him think he'd done anything wrong, but far enough to indicate she needed to stop.

He placed a kiss on the side of her temple. "You okay?"

Juliet rested her forehead against his. "Yeah, "she managed. "I just... I need to slow down... we need..." she was still slightly breathless and one of her hands was touching his face in reassurance. She placed the lightest of kisses against his lips, one after another until he was doing the same and then holding her to him, her face buried somewhere in his neck.

They were standing there for a few minutes, just enjoying the feel of one another, when somebody knocked on the door. Juliet raised her eyebrows and James shook his head - he wasn't expecting anybody. He went to open it, Juliet following him but holding back a little.

He pulled open the door with a force stronger than necessary. "What?" he growled.

"LaFleur."

It was Miles. He and Jin had been given the Sunday shift as payback for interrupting him and Juliet with their drunken chorus – not that they were even aware of why they were being punished and James had no intentions of enlightening them.

"Enos," he growled, less than amused.

"Boss, we got a problem."

"Of course we do," James sighed. "Well, out with it."

"Jin just finished a census," Miles began. "Somebody's missing and by the looks of things, they could've disappeared any time within the last few days."


	6. Stages of Grief: Guilt

**A/N: Now that I've mushed you up, I feel the need to dial up the angst once more. Please don't hate me. **

**5. Stages of Grief: Guilt**

_February to March 2008_

He remembers now. Layin' in the dark surrounded by empty take-out boxes and having exhausted the bottles of booze he bought when he could still stand to go outside, all he can do now is think. He wants it to go away - oblivion would just be a whole lot better than this. He's sprawled out on the bed in nothing but shorts and he stares at the ceiling, daring it to collapse on him and let the anvil on his chest finish the job.

He hates it. The traffic, the lights, this goddamn resort with its fuckin' Egyptian cotton and the goddamn toiletries that smell like grapefruit. He wants Dharma soap, he wants Thursday night karaoke with songs he already knows the words to - he wants to see her face smiling back at him across the breakfast table.

And if he goes outside, he knows he won't see her but he also knows that every blonde-haired woman he sees will make him believe – just for a second – that he can. And he can't face that.

Every day that he spends lyin' in this 5-Star bed, is one less day he has to face a world without her.

_xxx_

He's not really aware of time - he just knows that it's passing. He can tell by the kids stampeding down the hall for breakfast, or by the young couples giggling and whispering to each other on their way back from a night on the town. He can tell by Rosita, who's given up trying to kick him out and has just learned to clean around him. She just "tuts" and "por favor's" and he ignores her. He was sure one time she'd just rolled him off the bed to change the sheets and that it was some sort of rights violation, but it would be his word against hers and he thinks the empty bottles littering the trashcan would be on _her_ side.

_xxx_

Three weeks after arriving in Los Angeles, Oceanic Airlines politely let's him know he's overstayed his welcome. He leaves the hotel with about as much as he brought in. It don't matter that he could've continued paying the bill on his own dime; he just figures a motel won't have interfering staff or kids who're on their way to Disneyland. It won't have newly-engaged couples throwing their happiness in his face. Right now he just wants a bed to lie down in, and another bottle of whiskey.

Every day is an excuse to drink so that he can pass out and dream - 'cause in those dreams he can still see her and touch her, he can hear her laugh just one more time. And he just wants to stay there, because the one place he wants to be don't exist for him anymore.

_xxx_

Two weeks later there's a knock on the door. He pulls it open, squinting in the sunlight – unwashed hair matted against his skin_._

"What?" he grumbles.

"Jim."

It's Miles. He's standing there, clean shaven with some ridiculous sombrero on his head. "I just sold eight million in diamonds to some Jabrony down in Mexico, here's your share. Can I come in? You look like shit by the way."


	7. Rats in the Cellar

**6. Rats in the Cellar**

_30 years earlier…_

They marched across the compound, matching strides meaning business.

"What happened?"

"You know that kid, Willie?" Miles began.

"What d'you mean, the janitor?"

"Yeah, the one who picks up Linus' slack when he's stoned off his head," he finished. "Far as we can tell, the last person to see him was Heather – sometime 'round Wednesday."

James pushed open the door to the security station. "Son of a bitch."

_xxx_

Jin was waiting for them. He was going through tapes from the last seven days, face etched in concentration.

"Jin," James nodded. "What's the story?"

"Not good," Jin replied. "A lot of tape, a lot of water. Difficult to see."

"Let's get some more eyes in here. Miles - get on the horn an' tell Phil an' Jerry the rest of their Sunday's been cancelled. Jin - divide those tapes, let's see if we can figure out what the hell this kid was doing before he disappeared.

_xxx_

Seven hours later, the only success they'd had in spotting Willie was when he'd stopped by Heather's house to borrow what looked like a first aid kit. Why he'd gone there and not the infirmary he had no idea, but he supposed the freak storms had kept everyone from venturing further than necessary.

Once every last tape of the pylons had turned up nothing, Phil threw his hands in the air. "This is insane! Even if he was out there some_where_, some_time_, the rain's so thick we can barely see anything. This is a waste of time!"

"Now hold up there Sam Eagle," James interrupted and fixed him with a stare. "Whinin' about it won't get us anywhere. For all we know the kid just got turned 'round in the storm and is lyin' out in the jungle somewhere. Best we find him 'fore somebody else does."

Phil nodded with the air of someone whose dreams of elevation and promotion just got fed to the smoke monster. James _really_ didn't care. The way he saw it – Phil was going to have to actually _grow_ some balls before anyone ever considered him management material.

_xxx_

At 1am and after getting the okay from Horace, James allowed the security roster to return to normal. He sent everyone home, except for Jin and Miles' replacements, but told them all to be back at 5.30. They'd be starting a grid-by-grid search.

James trudged home, weary as hell. He didn't think he had the energy to make something to eat, so he just returned to the house, slipped off his jumpsuit and fell face-down on to his bed.

Five minutes later, he heard soft footsteps entering his room and felt covers being pulled up and over him. Moments after, he felt Juliet curl up beside him, pulling him up off his stomach and onto his side. She wrapped one arm around his waist and buried her face in his neck, kissing him lightly. He took hold of her hand and both of them were asleep instantly.


	8. Bat out of Hell

**7. Bat Out of Hell**

The scuttlebutt at the Motor Pool was that all security teams had been pulled into duty. Their plan was to sweep each sector of Dharma terrain and hope that Willie Sanchez had not gone far. Juliet grabbed the electric sander off a shelf and crouched next to one of the vans. She knew the last thing James wanted was to venture into hostile territory, but venture he would if he had to.

James could take care of himself, but that didn't stop her from worrying. She wanted to be out there with him, but there was no justifiable excuse to warrant a grease monkey tagging along with the big guns. Distracting herself with the task of fitting a new van door, all she could do was pray that they returned safely.

It was late in the afternoon when she heard someone running towards her.

"Juliet!"

It was Amy.

Juliet dusted herself down. "Hey, what's up?" The smile on her face froze when she saw Amy's expression. "What happened?"

"I just spoke to Horace. Something... I don't know... the patrol..."

Juliet took hold of Amy's shoulders. "Okay, Amy, slow down."

Amy caught her breath. "They ran in to trouble, out on the search. They found Willie, but, I don't know... there were shots fired... we... we don't know if anyone was hurt."

Juliet nodded - her eyes wild. "Where are they?"

"Horace says they're on their way in now."

Juliet grabbed Amy's hand. "C'mon."

"Where are we going?"

"The Pylons," Juliet replied. She grabbed the keys to a jeep and hopped into the driver's seat, Amy scrambling to keep up with her.

"Do you wanna slow down?" Amy cried, as Juliet tore the jeep across an open field.

Juliet ignored her _and_ the pain that shot through her spine each time the jeep hit a bump. Amy had one hand clutching her seat whilst the other gripped the overhanging frame – she was mentally making notes never to drive with Juliet again.

Juliet brought the jeep to a screeching halt twenty feet from the pylons and five feet from crushing Horace's toes. If he was surprised to see her, he didn't show it.

"Juliet," he nodded.

"Horace, where are they?"

"Coming in now." He went to the fence and keyed in the code just as the convoy of vehicles cleared the trees.

Most of the vans continued driving – heading for the infirmary – but Juliet could see James and Miles in one of the jeeps. Miles was driving and by the looks of it, James was clutching an arm. He spotted the panic in Juliet's face and told Miles to pull over. He was out the car and Juliet was already inspecting his shoulder before he'd even opened his mouth.

"What –"

"I'm alright," he interrupted.

"You're alright? You've been shot!"

"It's a graze, gimme some credit," he smirked.

"Not funny," she told him, her lips pressed tightly together.

James' jumpsuit was soaked in blood. Juliet didn't care how many dimples he was trying to impress her with. "You're going to the infirmary."

"I don't need the infirmary, just take me home and slap on a band-aid."

"James."

"Yeah?"

"You're going to the infirmary."

_xxx_

"You wanna slow down there?" James yelled above the roaring engine of the jeep, as Juliet sped back towards the compound. He was beginning to understand why Amy had turned down the ride and decided on going back with Horace.

Juliet parked just shy of the infirmary steps, ignoring his mutterings about female drivers and all but pushing him through the doors. Security team members, in various states of distress, were being poked, prodded and examined. Both Phil and Jin were sporting cuts to their face and arms and James watched Juliet's eyes roam from _them_ to Willie Sanchez, who was stretched out on a gurney being looked over by the doctor.

"Look, I'm fine," he said. "Let's just go and come back when it's less busy."

Juliet gave him a look, pushed him down onto a vacant bed and grabbed a suture kit. She hadn't said anything since the pylons and he could see her hands were shaking as she unzipped his jumpsuit. Placing his own hands over hers, he forced her to look up at him. He imagined the look on her face to be similar to the one she must have had when she accidentally tranquilized him with a bovine sedative two months ago. It was cute, seeing her so worried and he wondered – just for a moment – if he should pretend the pain was that much worse than it really was just to see how _much_ special treatment he could get.

She recovered quickly and helped him with his shirt. The fact that it was only days ago they were ripping each _other's _shirts off was not lost on either of them. He could tell she was thinking it – her expression meant business but the color in her cheeks was the giveaway.

He grinned and then winced when pain shot through his shoulder.

"Serves you right," she said softly.

He smiled, despite the sting as she started to clean his shoulder wound.

"So what happened?"

He was hoping she'd wait until later but he knew her well enough to understand she wanted the distraction while she patched him up.

"We were split up grid by grid, searchin' cross-hatch style an' makin' sure we weren't missin' anything," he began. "The teams kept callin' in with no sign of the kid and we had to push farther out."

"You ran in to the Others? The Hostiles?" she corrected, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one had heard her.

"Not exactly," he replied.

"What do you mean 'not exactly'?"

"We weren't near enough in their territory for them to start shootin' without warnin'. We found the kid an' Jin _swears_ he could see a couple hostiles hidin' in the trees but no one got a clear shot. It was almost like they were _tryin'_ to miss."

"So why is your entire unit in the infirmary?" Juliet asked.

He sighed. "I believe you'd call it – friendly fire."

"You all... shot each _other_?"

"More like there was somethin' wrong with the guns."

Juliet looked up sharply. "What?"

"Not all of them, but enough of them. We took extra in case we ran in to trouble an' what do ya know?"

"You ran in to trouble," Juliet finished.

"Half of 'em exploded just as soon as they were fired. Some of 'em wouldn't even fire at all – that's how I got this," he indicated his shoulder.

"James," Juliet's face was serious. "You clean your guns, you check them - they're locked down in the security station... how... how does something like this happen?"

"The extra ammo, last time anybody would'a checked it was right before we shut everything down because of the storms. That was seven days ago. Thing is, even if any of those guns had _somehow_ got wet under twenty feet of concrete _in_ storage, there ain't no way it was done before we closed everything off. I locked the guns up myself."

"Who was watching the monitors?" Juliet asked. She knew he would've kept someone on duty at all times – even during a monsoon.

"I kept everyone on short rotating shifts, if any of them had seen anythin' out of the ordinary I'd've known," he replied.

Juliet paused - bandage in one hand, tape in the other. There was something in his expression that told her he wasn't telling her everything.

"James," she probed gently, neither a question nor a demand.

He sighed and brought his face closer to hers. "When my rifle wouldn't fire, first thing I did was look at it more closely... It wasn't ours."

Juliet's breath hitched in her throat.

"An' there's only one other group _on_ this Island with access to guns," he continued, watching as Juliet's eyes lowered momentarily. "Which means that sometime between me locking down on Wednesday mornin' an' one of my guys takin' shift, _someone_ switched those guns."


	9. Stages of Grief: Anger

**A/N: Please don't kill me. Originally I was thinking that there would be more fluff but then I realized that this chapter needed to come first.**

**8. Stages of Grief: Anger**

_30 years later..._

"I see you checked in under 'Sawyer'. What, no maid service?" Miles says, clearing a pile of newspapers off a chair and scattering them to the floor. He shrugs, it's not like the place could get any worse.

"Fired 'em," Sawyer grunts, "weren't workin' up to code anyway."

"Your shower broken too?"

"What d'you want, Miles?" he sighs, cracking open two warm beers and passing one over.

Miles takes the bottle but there's no toasting. Sawyer sits in the other chair - his feet propped up on the bed. He downs half of his own bottle.

"Since when did you start calling me 'Miles'?" Sawyer doesn't respond and Miles lets out a breath. "What're you doing here, Jim? Sleeping in motels, drinking the State dry... this isn't you."

"You don't know jack about me, Genghis, so take your sorry pity speech to someone who needs it. I don't."

"Oh, I don't know _jack, _huh? Like I didn't just spend the last three years living eight houses down, like we didn't barbeque every other weekend or play cards on Wednesday nights? Like you didn't carry my sorry ass home the night my mother gave birth and I thought it would be a good idea to get wasted and sing _Papa was a Rollin' Stone_? Like I don't realize you just lost the woman you _spent_ those three years building a life with?"

Sawyer looks up at him. He doesn't say anything but his eyes are dark and angry.

"And what would she say, Jim, huh?" Miles continued. "If she could see you now, miserable and wasted, living in your own filth, what would she say? What would _Juliet _say? She'd kick your ass first is what Juliet would do."

Sawyer was out of his seat, picking Miles up and pinning him to the wall, fists gripping his shirt. "Don't you say her name!" he screams in Miles' face. "Don't you say her name you son of a bitch!"

"Or what, you'll hit me? C'mon LaFleur, hit me!"

Sawyer does. He swings a punch and misses, spinning 'round on himself. He grabs the chair and throws it. "Son of a bitch!" he yells. The chair packs more force than his punch and crashes through the window next to the front door. His arms are stretched against the wall and he's trying to breathe but there's this fucking pain in his chest and he can't see because his eyes are stinging and he would give anything – any goddamn fucking thing – to have just one more moment with her. He's pissed. He's pissed that the one good thing the world ever gave him, the world decided to take away because he didn't deserve it forever. He just needs her to be here, because he' doesn't remember what it's like not having anyone to get his back.

Miles is next to him - pretending he doesn't see his friend's running nose, or the tears hitting the cheap brown carpet below. Instead, he looks out at the parking lot – at the bits of broken chair and glass. "You're gonna have to pay for that y'know?" he says, after about a minute.

Sawyer makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"C'mon," Miles tells him, steering him towards the bathroom. Somehow he gets his friend into the tub and turns on the water, leaving him there to sober up. He figures he'll go see the manager and pay for the window. He wasn't the one who broke it of course - but he _has_ just scored $8 million and he's feeling charitable.

Sawyer sits in the tub shaking because of the cold, the booze, his grief – he doesn't know. He presses his fingers to the small scar on his shoulder – and it feels like yesterday that he was almost shot and Juliet fixed him. Juliet was always fixing him and now, now she'd never fix him again.


	10. Wild Horses

**Chapter 9. Wild Horses**

_1975_

Juliet was working overtime at the Motor Pool. It wasn't necessary but James wouldn't be home for hours and she wanted an excuse to work. The security team had taken twelve vehicles out the day before, which meant that those same twelve vehicles were in desperate need of some TLC. It wasn't an easy job, a coat of paint wouldn't cover bullet holes and half of the doors would need replacing. Most of the windshields had taken on some kind of damage and at least two of the jeeps needed engine refits. When everyone else had clocked out and gone home, Juliet had stayed on. Working was easier than waiting.

James was sitting on his desk and staring at the chalkboard, one hand absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder. Miles had stolen the mobile board from the school earlier that day and they'd set up a make-shift timeline of events. Once they'd finished interviewing every security team member, as well as the janitor Willie Sanchez, they'd scribbled any relevant notes onto the board hoping to find a pattern.

_xxx_

"You okay, Boss?" Miles asked, reaching for an Apollo bar in his desk drawer and peeling off the wrapper.

"Yeah," James replied.

"Only, you don't look okay."

"Look I already got _one_ doctor at home, I don't need another one lecturing me at work alright?"

Miles raised his hands defensively. "Hey, you got it." He went back to looking at the board. "Say, how _are_ things between you and Juliet? Last time I saw you two, you were cozying up by the pool table – teaching her how to score I believe."

James glared at him. The dull ache in his shoulder was enough to keep his expression suitably neutral. "Let it go, Enos, there ain't nothin' there to see."

"Uh huh," Miles replied.

James rubbed his shoulder again.

"You need therapy for that thing, or are you just gonna let Juliet take care of it?" Miles asked - the hint of a smile on his lips.

James glowered. "Juliet, I guess," he said tightly.

"Right," Miles nodded, "what's a little PT between friends huh?"

He was smirking and James forgot about his shoulder long enough to aim a ball of paper at his head. He winced in pain.

"That's right, make it worse," Miles told him, his eyes dancing.

"Look – Miles," James grunted, "She's my roommate, she's a friend and that's… just what it is. There ain't nothin' more between us okay?"

Miles looked at him and smirked. "_Oh_-kay."

James waved his good arm in Mile's direction. "Let's run through the board again."

"Alright," Miles begins, "so Willie Sanchez burns himself badly on his stove but he's not going to go all the way to the Infirmary to get it treated – firstly because no one's in there working and second – there's so much rain you can't see three feet in front of you."

"So he goes to Heather's to get a first aid kit," James interjects.

"Right," Miles adds, "because it's closer."

"We've seen it on the tape, he gets the kit and –"

"Suddenly can't remember the way back from his _neighbor's_ house?"

She was standing there at the bottom of the steps, leaning against the wall, holding up a brown paper bag.

"Hey," James said, trying to keep his expression from giving him away.

"Hey, yourself," Juliet smiled, looking from James to Miles. She could tell the latter was already fishing for clues but her expression gave away nothing. "You know, you two could have your own cop show."

"Really?" Miles grinned.

"Mm hm. This whole set up? Very _Miami Vice_."

"_You_ watched _Miami Vice_?" James snorted.

Juliet arched an eyebrow. "I am a woman of many mysteries, James, my affection for crime dramas being one of them."

James was grateful that his back was towards Miles because his deputy wouldn't have missed the look he gave her.

Juliet pretended not to notice the effect she was having on him and held up the bag once more. "I brought dinner."

Miles perked up. "For both of us?"

Juliet grinned. "Yes Miles, for both of you."

He was already by her side, taking the bag from her hand and laying things out on the desk. He'd already wolfed down two forkfuls of rice before James or Juliet could join him.

"Why're you still in your uniform?" James asked.

"The Motor Pool was really busy today, there's still a lot of work to do and I just decided to stay on when everyone else went home," she replied.

"Y'know," Miles said, not bothering to stop and swallow first, "_Miami Vice_ was all about drug trafficking and prostitution. One wonders what you found so appealing."

Juliet smiled. "Maybe I just have a thing for police detectives."

"Or authority," Miles pointed out, raising his eyebrows and grinning suggestively.

Juliet titled her head to one side, the smallest of smiles on her lips. "You're not my type."

Miles took another bite. "Oh yeah, what _is_ your type?"

Juliet matched his grin with a stare of her own. James just watched them, knowing that a herd of unicorns would have to come busting in here riding on a rainbow and throwing gold at their feet before she would crack.

Eventually Miles waved his fork at her, sending bits of rice in every direction. "I'm on to you."

Juliet raised her eyebrows. "You're absolutely right Miles, you know what there really is something going on and I _should_ have told you earlier."

"Really?"

"Really," Juliet replied. "I didn't make this casserole. Amy did."

James almost choked on his beef.

"So, how's the investigation coming?" she asked.

James looked at her, remembering something she'd said earlier. "How does someone who's been working here longer than _we_ have, step off a front porch and wind up lost in the jungle, instead of back in his house pattin' himself down with a towel?"

"I guess… he _could_ have got turned around in the storm," Miles suggested.

"You and Jin were three sheets to the wind Saturday night and you _still_ found your way _from _the rec-centre _to_ my house in the pourin' rain," James replied.

"Man you're not going to let that go, are you?" Miles asked. "So, what's your point?"

"Willie's house is a lot closer to Heather's than the rec-centre is to _ours_," Juliet answered for him.

James tried not to linger on the way Juliet had said the word "ours". He'd been so preoccupied with this new crisis but suddenly it was if none of it actually mattered. Right now he wanted to go home, lock the door and hopefully avoid any furniture while he navigated her down the hallway.

She started clearing away some of their mess, her hand brushing by his own as she reached for his plastic bowl. He turned around slightly to toss his cutlery in the bag, catching her gaze as he did so. He didn't know what to think - she was just so goddamn good at looking as if nothing affected her. It was when she turned away that he saw the back of her neck was red. _Thank the Lord for ponytails, _he thought.

Miles was too busy staring at the board to notice any of this. He'd never have let it go if he'd seen the way James had hopped down off the table and leaned across Juliet to grab Mile's bowl. Juliet could've reached for it herself, but James took the opportunity to put his hand on hers before leaning over and giving her the bowl himself. It was a risk, he knew, but he decided that the small shudder he felt as his body brushed by hers was worth the possibility of Miles noticing.

"There'd be a tape right?" Miles said, tapping at the board.

"What?" they said it together, both of them forgetting they were still down in the Security station.

"There'd be a tape," Miles repeated. "Somebody switched those guns, right? Well that somebody had to have come in _here_ to do it. Now we don't have surveillance here but –"

"There's a camera outside pointin' directly at us," James finished. "Let's pull up the tapes."

Miles sighed, "We're gonna be here all night again aren't we?"

"No," James replied, glancing at the wall clock, "The shift ends in ten, I'm gonna walk Juliet home, you can wait for Phil and Jerry – let 'em know they got a job to do an' I'll debrief 'em in the mornin'."

"On it, Boss," Miles said, already disappearing into the storage room.

"You didn't have to do that, you know?" Juliet said, once they were outside and heading across the compound. "Walk me home, I mean."

James placed his hand at the small of her back. "These are dangerous times we live in, Sunshine."

"Hm, yes, but I can take care of myself," she replied and he could almost _hear_ her smirk.

"Well, just this once, why don't you make an exception and let somebody else take care of you for a bit?"

Juliet tossed her head over her shoulder and even in the darkness he could see her eyes glittering.

"Who did you have in mind?"


	11. Let's get it on: Rated M

**A/N: This chapter is rated Hard-R or M. Don't say I didn't warn ya. **

**It wasn't going to go up until tomorrow night (because I am behind on my writing and need the catch-up time) but I made a comment to '****scandaloussteph'** after yesterday's posting and I felt sorry for her because she'll be away until Monday and I fear she doesn't hate me enough yet. She called me "Scheherazade" and I feel it's only fair I live up to my new handle.

**So without further ado - you love me, you hate me, you love me...you hate me.**

**Chapter 10 - "Let's get it on"**

They're not even through the door before he's pushing her up against it. His mouth finds hers and she's already reaching for the zipper on his jumpsuit. She tugs at his uniform but his hands are on her face, then in her hair and she needs all of her strength just to stay upright. She figures that she'll need to stop and help him ease his shoulder out of the damn thing anyway and that would be too much time spent without his lips on hers.

She wraps her arms around his neck as he presses up against her, his hands sliding slowly down her arms and around her waist. There's too much clothing in the way – they both know it – and the temperature inside her jumpsuit has shot up ten degrees. He's already working on the problem, unzipping her effortlessly and pushing the blue overalls down her shoulders. She leans her head back as his lips touch her neck and she moans softly. One of the straps on her vest has fallen down her shoulder and James takes the opportunity to work his mouth across her chest. His hand comes up to cup one of her breasts and she's not really sure where her vest went or why her bra is on the floor at her feet or how in the world he still seems to have all _his_ clothes on – all she's aware of is the sound of her pulse in her ears as James takes one of her nipples in his mouth, rubbing his tongue across the tip of her breast before moving across to explore the other one. She doesn't really care that all of this is too soon; she just knows that stopping is not an option.

Suddenly she's in his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as they slam into the door. She can feel him - even through his jumpsuit - and she's not sure how much more of this she can take. She braces one hand against the doorframe as his teeth find and graze her nipple once more, his tongue following up and mapping the curve of her breast. His mouth starts working its way across her stomach and she wonders, briefly, how he's even managing to hold her up before the tip of his tongue slips into her belly button and she finds she no longer cares.

"James," she whispers and she can hear it in her voice, the need, the impatience. He doesn't even question, he just turns around still holding her in his arms and heads off down the hallway. They can't make it to either bedroom because the wall is closer and she decides she needs his lips on hers right now. Her hands run through his hair as their mouths meet and there're a lot of things she needs right now but mostly she just needs him. He's holding her and he's kissing her and she _knows_ how much he wants her. And honest to God - it's the best damn thing she's felt in years. She's not going to stop him because there really isn't any point in denying it anymore. She whispers his name against his lips and his kiss intensifies. If they don't slow down it'll be over all too soon.

"James," she whispers again and her feet find the floor as he lowers her down. She's panting heavily, her forehead leaning against his and his hands are making slow circles across her back. She looks at him and he has this look on his face like he's waiting for her to do something. She reaches for his jumpsuit and her eyes don't leave his - one of his hands is closing over hers and he's helping with the zipper, his lips starting to trace soft kisses along her cheek.

Juliet takes his hand in hers and leads him down the hallway, pulling him towards the bedroom. She grins against his mouth when he bends once more to kiss her and then kicks the door closed behind them.

_xxx_

Somewhere in the distance there's a commotion and several voices start crying for help.

"Son of a _bitch_!"

It's not James who says it.


	12. Suspicious Minds

**Chapter 11 "Suspicious Minds"**

"Son of a _bitch_," Juliet hissed, both of them turning their heads toward the noise.

She didn't even bother with a shirt - her jumpsuit was still hanging somewhere around her waist and she just zipped it up, gave him a look somewhere between disappointment and an apology and was out the door before either of them could say anything more.

James needed longer than the time it took to close a zipper.

_xxx_

He couldn't actually believe it. Don't piss off Jim LaFleur - that was the golden rule. It was the first thing he'd said when he took the job as security chief and he made sure it was drilled so far down into everyone's heads that even the scientists on Hydra Island knew not to mess with him. At their very first briefing he'd gathered his team down in the bunker and said "First order of business - you wanna take initiative, you prove to me that you can actually take it without screwin' it up, otherwise you get clearance from me first before you do anythin' you understand? Second order – you do anythin' to piss me off an' the wrath of God ain't what you gotta be worried about. Any of you seen that black cloud out there in the jungle? You piss me off an' I won't think twice about layin' your ass out for breakfast."

James was already making a list.

_xxx_

He followed the noises and Phil greeted him half way between his house and Horace's.

"What happened?"

Phil fell in to step beside him. "Not sure. We'd just changed shifts when we saw, I don't know, some kind of spark coming from Horace's place."

"Spark? You mean a fire?" James asked.

"I don't know."

"Well, what _do_ you know?"

"I sent Jerry to Horace, I came to get you," Phil replied hastily.

"Nothin',"

"Mister LaFleur?"

"'Nothin'' is the reply to my question. I asked 'what do you know', you didn't know anythin' therefore the correct answer to my question is '_I do not_ know'."

"Yes, Sir."

James rolled his eyes and wondered, briefly, if he'd live to regret giving Phil such a hard time.

Horace was sitting on the porch steps and holding some kind of rag up to his face – Jerry, Jin and Miles were hovering nearby. James knelt down next to him and nodded towards the house, indicating that his team should check it out.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"Well I'm not really sure, Jim," Horace replied. "One minute, I was making myself something to eat, the next my power goes out and when I go to check the fuse box – boom."

"Boom?" James was trying not to let his impatience show but there were just too many non-answers floating around.

"He nearly electrocuted himself," Amy said, coming out of the house and handing Horace a damp towel to replace the one he was holding up to his head.

"I was just trying to make a can of soup and the stove... sort of... blew up on me," Horace replied conversationally.

James noticed the blackened tips to Horace's fingers and the blood trickling down the side of his cheek. "How'd you hit your head?"

"When I fell back. But I was fine, Jim, I got up and went to the fuse box and – well – I guess I just made it worse."

James envied his calm. He didn't doubt that Horace was concerned but he admired the way in which he handled it. He looked around and then up at Amy. "Where's Juliet?"

"I – uh – I don't know. She went to get a first aid kit - she should be back any minute."

"Where's _yours_?" James asked, looking at Horace.

"I gave mine to Heather," Horace replied, "just in case she needed it for anything."

"Okay look from now on, people have _got_ to stop switchin' and lendin' out their kits," James thundered. "I'm makin' it a rule, it's a _safety_ thing – you wanna be a Samaritan that's fine, but they come to _your_ house to get fixed otherwise they suffer 'cause they were too lazy to walk to the infirmary and get a new one."

Horace opened his palms outward. "Okay."

James smiled a little at that. Horace sure was one amiable leader. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Juliet striding towards them with a first aid box in her hand. She gave him a brief smile and then knelt in front of Horace so that she could examine his head. Horace winced a little when she dabbed at it with disinfectant. He made a face like he was about to ask her to stop when James placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Just let her do it H – she's actually kinda good at this."

Juliet smiled.

"An' if you don't let her, she's gonna strap you down and do it anyway," James added.

Juliet paused to give him a look and continued cleaning Horace's wound.

"Were you a paramedic in another life, Juliet?" Horace asked.

"Something like that," Juliet replied.

"Boss?" Miles came around the side of the house and cocked his head, indicating for James to follow.

James looked at Juliet.

"Go," she said.

"You got this?"

"Yes, go."

He followed Miles into the house and found Jin shining a flashlight over Horace's fuse box. "What did you find?" he asked.

Miles scratched the side of his face – it was a nervous tick if ever James saw one.

"Somebody tell me _somethin'_," James said.

Jin pointed at the box. "These wires – are wrong. They... do not match," he replied stiltedly.

James squinted at the wires – it was difficult to see because the house was still in darkness, but with the help of the flashlight there was no mistaking the mess that was this fuse box. Leads that were meant to be linked to one main were cross-wired and linked with others. Some of them had been cut away completely and there were small black scorch marks dotted around the interior. James let out a breath.

"You check the stove?" he asked.

Miles nodded. "The stove itself was fine - it's the cabling that wasn't."

"Don't they got safeguards for that?"

"Yes but this is the '70s," Miles replied.

"And?"

"The fuse boxes are old... and when someone cuts away at that little piece of plastic that generally protects wiring, you're pretty much asking to be electrocuted."

James looked from Miles to Jin. "Are you sayin' someone did this _deliberately_?"

"Yes," Jin nodded.

"Not only that," Miles added, "but they tampered with anything they could and left nothing to chance. These circuits were all rigged to blow."

"Someone..." Jin began, "try to kill Horace."

James rubbed a hand across his face. "Son of a bitch."

_xxx_

He walked back out onto the porch. Juliet had finished patching up Horace and was standing out on the grass talking to Amy. He watched them for a minute, trying to think something through.

"Jim?" Horace said, coming over to stand next to him.

James glance at him and shook his head. "Your house was rigged, Horace. Somebody butchered your wires and did a piss poor job of sabotaging the place."

"Why, poor? I'd say they were quite successful, wouldn't you?" Horace replied.

"Whoever got in there had no idea what they were doing. They just screwed it all up and hoped for the best."

"By best, I'm assuming they were hoping to cause more damage than a few cuts and some ruined soup?" Horace remarked.

James shot him a look.

"I see," Horace said. "Well Jim, I place my trust in you. If anyone can get to the bottom of this, it's you and your team."

James wasn't listening - Jerry had just hurried over to him and was whispering frantically into his ear. He nodded and closed his eyes – this night was turning into a doozy. He was staring at Juliet when something finally clicked into place. Racing off the porch, he was by her side in seconds - dragging her away by her elbow.

"James!" She was struggling to keep up he was marching so fast. "James, stop! James!"

When they were out of sight of the crowd, he pulled her around the back of one of the houses. Juliet shrugged him off, but he managed to corner her against the wall.

"_What?_"

She looked angry and he bet her mood had about matched his. He took a breath, he knew he was doing this wrong but it was too late to back down now.

"_James_, what?" Juliet repeated - impatience evident in her tone.

"When you went to get the first aid kit, why didn't you come from the Infirmary?"

Juliet blinked. "I'm sorry... what?"

"You went to get the first aid kit for Horace, when you came back you weren't coming from the Infirmary. So where were you coming back from?"

"What? Um, the house," Juliet replied.

"The house, why?"

"Because Horace needed immediate attention and the house was closer."

"For the love of – would people stop tradin' them like candy, there's a system!" he beat his fist against the wall.

"James. What's going on?" her voice was level but there was an edge to it now.

"You came from the house?"

"Yes, I already told you that."

"So you didn't come from anywhere else?"

"Where do you think I came from?"

"What?"

"Well you clearly don't think I came from the house, so where is it you think I came from?"

"Security," James replied.

Juliet frowned. "Security? Why would I have come from security?"

"Because _that_ was the direction you _came_ from."

She paused. "It's _also_ the direction of our house... and almost every other house in the barracks."

He stared at her – his eyes boring into hers. He expected to find them unreadable but what he saw was anger and hurt. He sighed.

"The tape's gone," he told her. "The tape of whoever switched those guns is gone. It was sitting there on the desk and then Horace damn-near got electrocuted and now it's gone. Dammit there're guns backfirin', people goin' missing, the hostiles are involved –"

"And you think I did it," Juliet finished for him. "You think that because I was one of them – or will be one of them... you think I did it."

James pinched the bridge of his nose. "You were there when Miles was talkin' about it... an'... an' I don't know what to think."

Juliet looked at him and nodded. "That was the wrong answer, James" she replied, walking away from him and disappearing into the darkness.


	13. Stages of Grief: Bargaining

**A/N: Please don't kill me, but this chapter had to come first because I don't want to split the three chapters that follow.  
**

**Chapter 12 - Stages of Grief: Bargaining**

_April 2008_

They're walking down the boardwalk at Venice Beach. Miles is on his second hotdog and he's already tried to work the phone numbers off of three different women. Sawyer thinks he'd probably have more luck if he wiped the mustard stain off the corner of his lip but Miles isn't aware of it and _he_ ain't gonna tell him.

They pass a street performer and witness a pick-pocket trying to take off with some lady's purse. The kid hightails it down the sidewalk and the two of them take off after him, tackling him as he reaches the sand.

It's almost like old times, he thinks, until the beach cops come and thank him for his citizenship and he remembers that this ain't his job anymore. _Almost_.

"Got her number," Miles says. He's given the young twenty-something Barbie doll her purse back and taken advantage of his newly acquired hero status.

Sawyer rolls his eyes because Miles is already looking over his shoulder at the girl on the rollerblades – bronzed legs and a barely-there bikini. "Well ain't you the hero," he observes.

Miles grins and Sawyer wonders why he doesn't just walk around with a big sign on his chest telling everyone he's a millionaire.

He looks out at the ocean, squinting in the sunlight. It's a clear day and the temperature is starting to climb so the sand is littered with people who are getting an early start to their summer tans. The surf is crowded with swimmers and kids wiping out on their boards. He shouldn't be here, he thinks, he shouldn't be in Los Angeles with its beaches and its ocean or in _any_ city as ridiculously blonde as this one. But he stays because of its beaches and its ocean – and its blondes.

Now that he's sober enough to see straight, he believes that it wouldn't be such a bad thing to set up shop somewhere that reminds him – just a little – of the island he called home for three years. He can smell the salt air, he can track the gulls as they migrate - hell he can even pretend that the palm trees here are part of some large concrete jungle. _Drive around in the morning smog and you've got your very own smoke monster_, he reflects grimly, _probably just takes longer to kill ya._ He knows it's not the same – he knows it doesn't come close - but right now he's ready to cling to even the smallest familiarity.

There's a woman down by the shore playing with her son. She's pretending to run after him and he squeals as his feet splash in the water. His mother picks him up and kisses the top of his head – she's tall and her hair looks like spun gold and from all the way up here on the sand, she could be Juliet. There are a dozen people within his sightline that could be Juliet so he thinks if he stays here, then one day he might get lucky and he'll actually run right into her.

It doesn't matter that it's impossible, it doesn't matter that she's gone and he knows it – he doesn't accept it. There are a couple hundred people on this beach who could be Juliet, therefore one of them _must_ be.

"You know what we should do?" Miles says, snapping him out of his reverie.

Sawyer rubs a hand across his eyes. "Yeah, what's that?"

"Become cops," he replies, eyeing up the lifeguard who's just crossed his path, "solve crimes."

Sawyer snorts. "Ain't nobody gonna let an ex-con into Police Academy, Enos."

They're silent for a while as they head back to the boardwalk.

"I miss it," Miles tells him.

Sawyer closes his eyes. "Yeah, me too," he admits after a minute.

A fortune-teller up ahead is leaning against her stall and smiling at them. "Read your fortune?" she says and Sawyer's already giving her a look that says there ain't no way she gets him right.

Miles shoots him a grin. "C'mon, what's a dollar?"

"Half a cup of coffee," Sawyer grunts.

"It's actually five," she says, her gypsy skirt swaying in the breeze.

"Dollars?" Miles sputters.

She nods and adjusts her halter top. "Per individual reading."

Miles shrugs. "What do you think?" he whispers out the corner of his lips.

"I think you're gettin' conned, Hoss," Sawyer replies.

"Yeah I think she's hot too," Miles says, already digging out his wallet.

Sawyer chuckles and wanders around the rest of her stall while Miles keeps dishing out bills every time she reads a line. He's not really listening to whether or not Miles is going to double his wealth or marry someone famous - he's looking at the cheap jewelry and thinking how much it reminds him of the '70s. As a general rule nobody in the Dharma Initiative wore any when working, but most of the women had kept beaded bracelets or necklaces for nights out or days off. There's a string of topaz beads hanging from a hook and he remembers Juliet standing in front of the mirror with a similar piece. She'd take it off then put it back on, then take it off and put it back on again, trying to decide if it was her – if it wasn't too much. He remembers pulling her into his arms and kissing her lightly on the lips. The beads matched her eyes and it was never too much.

His breath catches in his throat.

"You want me to do yours, sailor?" She's already taking his hand.

He turns around and Miles is gone – he's spotted the doughnut vendor and seems to be ordering enough treats for a bake sale. Sawyer looks at the woman, giving her a small smile. "No thanks," he tells her, letting go of the beads.

He's about to cross the boardwalk but has to wait for a group of cyclists to go by.

"It's not your name!" she calls and he turns back to look at her. "I don't know what that means, but it's not your name."

He nods and makes his way to where Miles is standing, offering up his selection box.

Miles has already managed to drip jam onto his shirt. "Waste of time," he says between his bites. "There's twenty bucks _I'll_ never see again. So, where to now?"

Miles looks at him and he just shrugs.

"I've been thinking," Miles starts.

"Of course you have."

"We should open up some kind of PI business."

"PI?"

"Yeah. Private Investigator service."

"I know what it means."

"Yeah, well. We should do it." He takes another bite of his doughnut. "Jules always said we'd be good at it."

They head back up the boardwalk, dodging the tourists with their cameras.

"What do you think?" Miles continues, watching his friend closely. "Sawyer and Straum?"

"I think that," and he pauses to look back at the gypsy cart, "that's not my name anymore - so let's just leave it here out on the boardwalk."

Miles smiled, "Sure thing, Jim."


	14. Fire on the Mountain

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay in getting chapters up - my family has been in town and it's hampered both my writing time and my posting ability. So I'll just take this opportunity to thank everyone who has commented, it really keeps me writing.

**Chapter 13 "Fire on the Mountain"**

James ended up sleeping at his desk. She hadn't asked him to – she hadn't kicked him out or suggested he should leave – in fact, she hadn't said much of anything to him. She'd walked back to the house, gone into her bedroom and shut the door behind her.

He could've just gone home and laid low but he felt like a prized ass – he didn't want to do any more damage. So he slept at his desk. On the one hand it meant that he could keep a watch on Phil and Jerry as they finished their nightshift – on the other it meant he woke up with achy joints and a crick in the neck.

The aftermath of the incident at Horace's house had left the security team feeling stunned. Nothing like this had ever happened before and the knowledge that someone had intentionally tried to kill their leader made them angry and more than a little afraid. James had sat them down afterwards and told them they weren't to breathe a word of it to anyone – as far as the rest of the population was concerned, it was an accident. He didn't want any talk of sabotage and subterfuge.

He wasn't sure what to make of anything anymore. Someone had known enough about them, enough about their movements, to cause unimaginable chaos. Whoever had done it, took advantage of them being distracted. They'd snuck in, stolen the first tape and James had learned later they'd also disabled the camera pointed at them in order to cover up their tracks a second time. It was more than a two-minute job – certainly more than the time it takes to grab a first aid kit – and that only made him feel more of an ass.

James stretched and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He needed to talk to Juliet before he did anything else to screw things up further. It was early but he was counting on her wanting to be up and out the door before he could corner her again. He tried to prevent himself from just running across the compound – if people saw members of security running around, they panicked. James had trained his entire team to walk with a sense of purpose – look like you're busy so nobody bothers you but don't go alarming everyone by racing around all over the place. He figured that last night's events at least justified him _marching_.

He arrived at the house - he could smell toast so he knew she was awake. He shut the door behind him just in case she needed to stab him with a fork and didn't want witnesses – he felt he at least owed her that option.

Juliet walked out of her bedroom still tying her hair into a ponytail. She stopped short when she caught sight of him.

"Hi," he said, feeling like an idiot for not offering more.

"Hi," she replied, before heading into the kitchen.

He followed her. "Look I... I was outta line. I'm – I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she said, scrubbing at a plate as if she was anything _but_. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago they'd been cozying up by that very same sink and now she could barely look at him.

"I didn't mean... look I was just –"

"Doing your job, I get it," she interrupted.

"Yes. No. Dammit Juliet, things were crazy last night an' I wasn't thinkin' straight," he told her.

She turned around to face him. "Spare me the attempt to backtrack James – you think because I was there when Miles suggested the tape that I somehow had something to do with it. You think that because people are getting shot and the Others are involved that by default it makes me guilty because _you_ can't let go of the fact that I used to be one of them. So I'll just say this once," she paused, walking towards him so that his face was inches from her own. "I came to this island voluntarily and when I got here I was told - that I could never leave. And every time I tried to get away, I was shot down. As much as you wanted to get away from here, trust me, I wanted it more but I had to help you – all of you – because you needed it too. I'm just rolling with it – all of it – because I've come to learn that I don't have control over _any_ of this. And the _only_ reason why _I_ am here – is because you asked me to stay. Do you think if I was involved that I wouldn't have been smart enough to figure out how to get the tape all on my own? Do you think I needed to rely on Miles _accidentally_ mentioning it in front of me? I've lived on this Island for more than four years - trust me when I say I don't need a map."

"Juliet," James said quietly.

She stepped away from him, there were tears in her eyes and she didn't want to break this close to him. "I guess I should just be lucky that you didn't accuse me of seducing you in order to do it."

She exited the kitchen, going back down the hall and into the bathroom. He heard the door close and lock behind her. It made him feel worse.

Grabbing a pen and paper off the coffee table, he headed down the hallway after her. She'd have to come out in order to go to work and he wasn't sure why, exactly, but he needed to fix this now.

He sat down next to the bathroom door – knees protesting as he did so – and leaned his back up against the wall. He scribbled something on a piece of paper, tore it off and slipped it under the door. It contained two words – _I'm sorry_.

He waited a minute and then scribbled something else – _I'm an ass_. He slipped the note under the door and without waiting for a response – not that he thought he'd get one – started scribbling again. _I'm a huge, giant ass and you are probably the only person on the planet I'd admit this to._ Under the door it went. _I'm sorry. This thing between us – I don't know what it is exactly but it's... REAL._ He read over it again and pushed it through. _I know you're pissed, _he wrote, _you've got every right to be. Gotta go to work._ He smiled a little as he slid that one under and began writing another – _Gotta take a shower but I can't get into the bathroom._

He waited another minute and then pushed himself up off the floor. He was about to go when he heard the latch click as Juliet opened the door. Her face was red and damn if he didn't hate himself even more. He tried to say something but found he didn't know _what_ to say.

"You should go see Richard," she said. "See if he has anything to say about it. If he's lying – I'm sure you'd be able to figure it out."

"So basically you're pushing me _toward_ the people with guns." It was a weak joke but he was almost sure he saw the corner of her mouth move. "Yeah, I guess I deserved that."

"Go see Richard," she repeated.

He nodded. "I'm gonna have to go on foot – protocol says we can't take another vehicle out of zone while there're so many in the shop. Don't wait up."

He hovered in the doorway, uncertain of what he should be doing. Eventually she nudged him gently into the bathroom.

"You really _do_ need to shower," she told him and he smiled impishly. "James?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful today."

James nodded – she was talking to him and that was a start.


	15. Sorry seems to be the hardest word

**Chapter 14 - "Sorry seems to be the hardest word"**

Juliet spent most of her morning trying to stay busy. She kept getting distracted by the tiniest things and by midday, realized it was taking her twice as long to get any work done. The temperature was starting to climb towards unbearable and the heat wasn't helping her state of mind. She was also – much to her chagrin – slightly worried about James. He wouldn't risk taking anyone else into hostile territory so she knew he'd go alone. His shoulder wasn't anywhere near 100% and whereas Richard might think twice before shooting, the rest of them probably wouldn't.

Juliet pulled off her gloves and tossed them onto the work counter. She used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat off her brow and let out a breath. James had no business making her worry when she was still angry with him, in fact - anger barely touched the surface of how she was feeling right now, confusion and inadequacy were currently vying for the top spot.

She didn't understand how in the world she could be so wrong about this – or why every choice she made ended in her feeling betrayed. She knew James had tried, but that didn't change the way his accusation made her feel.

Her eyes were starting to prickle and she knew she had to get away from the general gossip and buzz of the Motor Pool – it wasn't helping. She didn't talk to anyone - she just scribbled her name on the sign-out sheet and raced across the compound. Halfway home she rounded a corner and smacked into something solid – barely registering the something was actually a someone. It knocked the wind out of her but she just changed direction and kept on going – all she wanted to do was get home, she didn't care who she had to mow down to get there.

_xxx_

There was a soft clicking noise coming from somewhere behind her and recognizing it as the front door opening and closing, she wondered who had been presumptuous enough to invite themselves into her house. She wasn't particularly worried – she'd meant it when she said she could take care of herself. It wasn't until she heard the familiar footfalls that she turned around – not daring to look in the mirror – steeling for a fight. Juliet watched as the doorknob turned and the bathroom door opened slowly.

James stood there, looking about as winded as she felt.

"Go away," she managed. "You need… you can't…" Juliet's voice was breaking and her shoulders were starting to shake. She tried to move past him but he was there and his eyes looked desperate and it was too much. It took her a few seconds to realize that the sensation on her forehead was his lips brushing against it.

The sob broke and she pushed him away with what little strength she had left. "I… don't – want you – anywhere – near me," she croaked, now beating her fists against his chest. "I don't…" she sobbed, "just go."

He didn't say anything - he just wrapped his arms around her as she continued hitting her fists against him. Juliet's knees buckled and he went down with her, pulling her into his lap and trying to think if there was a time when he hated himself more.

"Ssh," he whispered against her ear, "ssh, I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry."

He held on until the fight went out of her and she slumped against him.

"You're bleeding," she said eventually, pressing her fingers to his jumpsuit.

"Yeah, well," he smiled, "I was walkin' along mindin' my own business when this blonde tornado came outta nowhere an' damn near knocked me over."

"I suppose it didn't help that she started smacking you in the chest afterwards?" she replied. "You should let me –"

"Ah," he shushed her, "I'll live. Nothin' I didn't deserve."

Juliet sniffed. "I thought you were going to see Richard?"

"Horace made me hold off until tomorrow – he's as worried about the heat as he was about the damn rain – doesn't want me past the pylons without a van.

Juliet nodded and reached for one of the pieces of paper still lying on the floor. She turned it over in her palm. I'm sorry. This thing between us – I don't know what it is exactly but it's... REAL.

"Why?" she whispered. "If it's so real – if anything here is real – then why?"

He didn't answer at first; he was running his hand through her hair trying to think of something – anything – he could say to make her feel better.

"I –" he began, "look, whichever way I say this I'm probably not gonna do it right so I'll just come out and say it and when I'm done – well you can kick me out if you want."

She turned her head to look at him.

"I panicked," he said, "the tape was gone an' everything had gone to hell – an' I wasn't thinkin' – I didn't think you'd seriously gone an' done it but I was so busy tryin' to say it wasn't you that I ended up sayin' it was." He paused. "That didn't make any sense."

"No," Juliet replied, "it didn't."

James let out a breath. "Juliet, you are the only thing I got out here – okay maybe it's 98% you, 2% Miles and Jin."

Juliet smiled a little. "They'll be pleased."

"I ain't doin' this right."

"James," she said, shifting out of his lap so she was sitting next to him, "you dragged me away from a crowd of people and accused me of trying to kill everyone."

"I never said that."

"You might as well have," she replied.

He closed his eyes and nodded. "I didn't mean it -"

Juliet looked like she was about to say something.

"Wait, just lemme finish," he interrupted. "I had a strategy – for a split second I had a strategy – an' suddenly – it went out the window the minute I dragged you off 'round the side of that house. I was gonna ask if you'd seen anyone... an' then I didn't."

"Why not Miles?"

"What?"

"Why was Miles not worthy of your suspicion?"

"Because I got no interest in sleepin' with him," he replied, his expression slightly frustrated.

"Excuse me?" she was more amused than offended.

"Everybody leaves, Juliet."

"What do you mean?"

"At some point," he continued, "you're gonna figure out that I ain't your Prince Charming. You're gonna realize that I aint' that guy – the guy you can be proud of, the guy you take home to your family." He paused. "That's why I did it. I'd rather you think I was the world's biggest asshole than have to wake up one mornin' and figure out you can do better – that you want a doctor or a lawyer and not some ex-con posing as a leader."

"James," she said.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," he interrupted again, "I don't expect you to feel anythin'."

"And that would be great," she said slowly, "If I didn't already feel something." She rubbed her hands over her face, trying to ignore the fact that she knew she looked a mess. "I married a doctor. I married a doctor and it was – horrible. And the last doctor I knew – left me behind when he promised he wouldn't. I'm not looking for another doctor, James – I'm not looking for a lawyer or an academic and believe it or not I'm not looking for an ex-con. It doesn't work like that – I don't get to choose. I don't even know how this happened but it did. And you – do not get to be the judge of what I want. Besides, the fact that you didn't sleep with me first before you got scared shows me that you already care what I think of you anyway."

She stood up to emphasize her point and headed out into the hallway. He followed.

"I don't know if I believe you," she said. "I don't if I can. I should get back to work."

James nodded. "Come with me tomorrow."

"What?"

"I am gonna go see Richard tomorrow - I'd like you to come with me. Ain't nobody gonna get my back like you will."

Juliet looked at him and James would've pegged her expression as somewhere between stubborn and relief.

"How're you –" she began.

"I'll figure it out. If I need a mechanic to drive with me I need a mechanic to drive with me. Nobody's gonna question it." He was standing close to her now, his eyes searching hers. "I'm sorry. I never meant... I hurt you, I get that an' I'm sorry." His voice was gruff, he'd done a lot of apologizing today and he wasn't used to it. "Will you come with me tomorrow?"

Juliet studied his face, finding nothing but sincerity. A few months ago James had told her that their friendship wasn't a con, even if their life here was a part of one and she chose to trust in that. He was scared and if she was being completely honest, so was she. Juliet almost reached for his arm, feeling ridiculous when she pulled back half-way and realized that James had half-reached out too. He smiled to cover his own embarrassment and the dimple in his cheek broke her resolve – she found it hard to believe there was a time when it didn't work on her. Backing up the hallway - more to stop herself from melting into his arms than because she actually wanted to get away - Juliet gave him a shy smile in return.

"Okay," she said.


	16. The Closer I Get To You

**A/N: LOL. So this chapter was meant to end with the meeting with Richard. This entire chapter was meant to be a paragraph and then on with the show. I got side-tracked. I apologize.**

Juliet was sitting out on the porch steps resting her head against the pillar. The morning sun was already doing a good job of letting the Dharma residents know just how hellish today was going to be. She was waiting for James, who seemed to have gotten lost somewhere between breakfast and getting dressed. Juliet knew his shoulder was bothering him – pain he could handle but the constant itching was beginning to wear on his patience. She found this amusing, mostly because he knew that she knew it was irritating him, but _he_ was pretending it wasn't. It was almost as if he was trying to avoid getting on her nerves by making himself as small as possible – which was ridiculous because he was hard to miss!

Dinner the night before had Juliet biting the inside of her lip in order to keep her poker face. She'd returned from the Motor Pool a little later than usual to find James already home and in the kitchen. She'd smelled onions and fresh herbs - and James had run around after her serving up peanut-butter kebabs followed by stir-fried chicken and vegetables, finishing it all off with a fruit salad. He wouldn't even let her walk to the kitchen to get another drink. He'd leapt up and grabbed her glass, sending pieces of baby corn flying. Juliet had stifled her giggle and James had returned with another glass of red wine – she hadn't had the heart to tell him she only wanted water.

It had been a good evening – despite the awkward glances and lengthy silences. James was trying to make things up to her – even if it wasn't easy for him – and she found that as the evening progressed it was really all she needed.

He'd walked her to her bedroom door, both of them hovering uncertainly.

"So, this was officially the worst date ever," he'd remarked.

She'd smiled and found herself kissing the side of his cheek. "I don't think you did as badly as _you_ think you did."

Juliet smiled at the memory – James was cute when he was embarrassed, not that she would ever tell him that.

She wondered what was keeping him. "James?" she called. When there was no response, she stood up and headed into the house. She found him in the bathroom, standing in his shorts and struggling with his bandage. Scattered bits of tape lined the sink amongst what looked like the spilled contents of an antiseptic bottle. She eyed the movement in his back muscles, taking in the curve of his shoulder blades and trying not to think about him in any other way than a study in anatomy. She was a little relieved he couldn't see her.

"You checkin' me out?" James asked.

_Damn._ She forgot about the mirror.

He turned around, amusement in his eyes. Juliet looked straight at him – trying to ignore the stray thoughts of "rippling" and "pectorals".

"Um. Just, y'know… browsing. Like in a library – you're allowed to check things out."

James flashed her a smile. "You realize that after you check the book out, _eventually_ you're gonna have to read it."

Juliet grinned and felt the tension in her shoulders lift. She unwrapped a fresh bandage and grabbed the half-empty bottle of antiseptic from his hands. "Yeah well, I lost my bookmark," she replied.

He smiled, then winced as she dabbed at his shoulder. "I can do that," he grumbled quietly.

"Yes, because you were doing such a good job of it before," she replied.

"Hey, I ain't _that_ bad," he told her.

"Huh," she said, flicking her eyes up briefly to meet his. "That's not what you said yesterday."

James sensed danger and made a mental note to tread carefully. "I have a kid," he said quietly.

She looked up at him, her fingers fumbling a little. "What?"

"Her name's Clementine. She'd be almost five now. I ain't ever seen her." He was looking away from her, not wanting to see the expression on her face.

Juliet recovered quickly and went back to changing his dressing.

"Her mother came to see me when I was doin' time an' I sent her away, said I didn't want any of it," he continued.

"And did you?" Juliet asked.

James didn't know what to say. "The Warden had bigger fish than me to fry an' he cut me a deal. In exchange for my expertise he commuted my sentence and cut me a fat check."

"What did you do with the money?"

"I – uh – stuck it in bank in Albuquerque, in Clementine's name. Just before I jumped off the chopper, I asked Kate to make sure she gets it."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

James smiled a little. "You deserve to know what you're getting into."

"It wasn't in your file," Juliet said softly.

"I figured," he replied.

She raised her eyebrows.

"You looked surprised," he told her.

"I am."

"That I gave her the money?"

Juliet shook her head. "That you have a daughter. The other part doesn't surprise me at all."

"Oh," he replied dumbly.

She smiled at his expression. "It doesn't matter."

"Which part?" James replied, aware that Juliet's hands were resting on his chest even though she'd long since finished doctoring him.

"I don't care who you _were_, but I do care about who you are now."

He didn't say anything and he didn't want to disturb the way her thumb was brushing against his skin, just in case it didn't last any longer than this moment.

"James, I-" she paused, finally realizing what her hands were doing. They were now _both_ watching her fingers move across his chest. "I like that you're a little rough around the edges."

His mouth twitched.

"Okay, a lot of rough," she corrected. "And I understand… why you…don't… trust me. But what I don't understand – what I can't understand – is that after everything we've been through here, God, James, it's been ten months. You trusted Kate to make sure your daughter was okay – you _knew_ her, you knew her history and you _made_ that choice. You'd only known her for three months." She paused to rub a hand across her face. "I'm not belittling what you had, I'm just wondering how me being an Other once upon a time makes me any different from Kate – or any different from you for that matter." Juliet looked down at the floor – she didn't want to see him fight for an answer.

She was surprised when she felt James' hand reach out to cup her cheek, gently lifting her chin until her eyes had little choice but to meet his.

"It's not," he said. "One minute you were this Other, next minute you were one of us divin' into stupidity without any guns, next day we're livin' in a house – playin' board-games an' relaxin' on the porch like we don't got a care in the world. It's like one day I woke up an' realized I got somethin' – an' then I went to bed and started thinkin' about all the ways it could get taken away. So I did what I do best – if I push you far enough then this is over before it begins an' I don't have to wonder if that day is comin', the day when you're gonna change your mind. Honest to God that's why I did it – I just didn't count on feelin' like this after. Guess it only works if it goes away."

"If what goes away?" Juliet asked - her throat tight.

"You," he replied.

"Do… you want me to go away?"

James took a step closer, one hand wrapping around the small of her back, the other still stroking her cheek. He shook his head. "No."

"Okay," she whispered - her lips only inches from his.

"I don't… know how to do this."

"It's okay. We can figure it out."

"You're in my head."

"I apologize," Juliet smiled.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I trust you."

"James?"

"Yeah?"

"We're late and we _have_ to go see Richard today. So could you shut up and kiss me already… y'know before someone _takes_ our van?"

James grinned and brushed his lips up against hers. "You got it, Blondie."


	17. Long Cool Woman

"Is there a reason we're just sitting here?" Juliet asked.

James was sitting in the driver's seat looking out the window, his pistol resting on one knee. He glanced over at Juliet. "Well the last time you and me started hidin' in the bushes, you nearly got your arm cut off. Want that to happen again?"

Juliet raised an eyebrow. It was early afternoon and the heat was getting to both of them. "I don't know, maybe they've evolved. That was 1954, this is 1975 – I think we're in a more sophisticated decade," she teased lightly.

"So what, they've done away with machetes and they're just gonna start hurling disco balls instead?" he smirked. Juliet gave him a look that James couldn't decode. She was either amused _or_ she was about to whack him in the arm with the butt of her rifle. Both of these were strong possibilities.

"Whilst I appreciate the concern for my safety, hiding in the van isn't going to get us any closer to talking to Richard," she told him.

He sighed. "Fine. But don't say I don't look out for ya."

"I would never say that," she replied.

James got out of the van, Juliet following suit. "An' stay behind me."

"Yes dear."

"Wiseass," he muttered, shouldering his rifle and gripping his pistol in the other hand.

They headed deeper into the jungle, both of them on alert for any signs of movement, but all they could hear was the sound of the trees and their own footfalls. They'd been walking for a quarter of an hour without incident, when Juliet stopped suddenly and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go this way," she whispered.

James frowned. "No, we gotta go _that_ way. Don't worry I got this arranged, Richard knows I'm comin' –"

"No, James, trust me we don't want to go that way," she replied, tugging him in another direction.

James looked like he wanted to say something, but the look in her eyes was enough to convince him and he let her take the lead. A few minutes later they hit the end of the tree line – it broke out into a clearing that disappeared off the edge of a cliff. Richard was sitting on a small incline, gazing across the ocean. They approached him from behind, weapons down but ready.

"Richard," James spoke.

Richard started but didn't turn around. "James," he nodded in reply. "I expected you to come from that direction." He pointed somewhere off to his right.

James glanced at Juliet. "We didn't like the scenery," he replied.

Richard smiled, turning his head and finally spotting Juliet. He looked at her curiously. "I was expecting Horace."

"This is Juliet," James said by way of introduction. "She's one of mine."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Juliet," Richard said.

Juliet said nothing and sat down on the grass next to James, her eyes watching the tree line.

"You requested a meeting?" Richard continued.

"I did. See, several of your guys have violated our truce an' we figured we'd give you a chance to explain it," James told him.

Richard looked at him sharply. "I don't know what you're referring to."

"_Really_?" James replied. "'cause I got an injured kid named Willie who says otherwise. He says you dragged him off into the jungle during a storm in order to lure _us_ into a gunfight. That ain't true?"

"No James," Richard said, "it isn't."

"So we just _imagined_ getting shot at? Did we imagine those guns – your guns – blowin' up in our faces?"

"I don't know what to say to you," Richard replied. "But I have never come into contact with anyone in the Dharma Initiative, named Willie."

"Then we got ourselves a problem, Hoss," James said, shaking his head. "'Cause one of _yours_ rigged some guns and switched them with ours. One of _yours_ - kidnapped one of ours an' one of _yours_ tried to kill Horace. What're your thoughts on that?"

"I think," Richard replied slowly, "that your security is more lax than usual."

James lowered his eyes. "_We_ didn't start this."

"_I_ didn't authorize this," Richard rebutted.

"Well somebody did."

"If _anybody_ did, then I would know."

"Because you've _clearly_ got this one _all_ figured out."

"I am sorry for the things that have happened to your people but I had nothing to do with that," Richard replied.

James sighed - they were going around in circles.

"Is there anyone else who could have authorized it?" Juliet spoke up. "Someone... _outside…_ of your camp?"

Richard looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"We all answer to someone," Juliet replied. "If you were really in charge then I'm sure you wouldn't be sitting here now worrying about which of your men violated a peace treaty."

James cocked his head and smiled.

"I am – how should I say – more of a negotiator than I am a leader and the man I answer to did not ask me to do this," Richard told them.

"An' he never _asked_ anyone else?" James replied.

"I am the only one who speaks with him," Richard said.

James glanced at Juliet, who nodded imperceptibly.

"Richard, one or more of your men have gone rogue. Fix it – or we're gonna fix it for you," James told him.

Richard nodded. "I will look into it."

"'ppreciate that," James replied. He stood up, recognizing that this conversation had gone as far as it was going to.

Juliet looked at Richard. "I assume you have some way of communicating with your men in the trees. It's hot and it will be quicker for us if we can go back that way," she pointed in the direction Richard has assumed they'd come in from. "We don't want any trouble."

Richard looked at her once again with surprise and then watched as they both headed for the tree line. "James!" he called after him.

Juliet continued onwards while James stopped to turn around.

"Maybe one of our men _has_ gone rogue but you should also stop to consider that maybe one of _yours_ has too," Richard finished.

James caught up with Juliet and the two of them made their way back through the jungle.

"He might not be wrong about that, you know," Juliet said.

"'bout what?" James asked.

"Somebody in the Dharma Initiative going rogue," Juliet replied.

"We've had this conversation," he said, "it ends with me sleepin' at my desk."

Juliet smirked. "The direction was wrong but your instincts were right. It makes sense – if any one of them had come in to the barracks, you'd have seen them."

"What, you have that much faith in my team?"

"Doesn't matter, I have faith in _you_."

They'd reached the van and Juliet turned around to face him.

"Yeah well," he said, doing his best to hide his embarrassment. "Y'know, sometimes I think you should be transferring from your stint with the grease monkeys to security - how'd you know Richard would have men where he did?"

Juliet shrugged. "Girl's gotta have some secrets," she replied, hopping back into the van.

James grinned, opening the driver's side door and starting her up. He tilted his head towards Juliet and she shrugged again, a small smile on her lips. James shifted the van into gear and headed back towards the compound. Juliet turned on the radio, leaned back in the seat and propped her feet up on the dashboard.

"I guess I just understand how he thinks," she said sometime later.

James looked over at her.

"Richard," she added. "If there's one thing we were good at, it was hiding in plain sight. The direction we were going in? We'd have hit a steep trench and would've had to either climb or go around – either way we'd have been vulnerable."

James reached out and squeezed her hand. "Thanks for havin' my back... an' I don't just mean today."

Juliet closed her eyes and smiled, wrapping her hand around his and humming along to Geronimo Jackson.

"You want your hand back?" she asked.

"Nope," he replied.

"Only, this road's getting a little bumpy and it would be nice to get back to the barracks in one piece," she said, her voice shaking as the van bounced along the uneven terrain.

James smiled, "Only way I'm lettin' go of this hand is if you let go first."

"Great, so we'll both die," she replied. "There's a pothole up ahead."

"I see it, stop backseat drivin'."

Juliet giggled. "Security chief Mister Serious LaFleur gets very superior and cranky when he's on the job. Do you treat _all_ your lackeys this way?"

"Just the insubordinates," James said, shooting her a look.

"Huh, I think I'll stay in the Motor Pool then. I'm sure I'd be an asset to your team but then you'd probably spend more nights sleeping at your desk."

He watched her grin and damn if she wasn't cute when she was flirting. "You better stick to fixing cars then."

"That's probably best," she replied, "and I actually like being a mechanic – less stress."

"_And_ you're good at it."

"There's that."

The van jerked suddenly and the engine started whining. Juliet let go of James' hand so he could grab the wheel and bring the van back under control. Their vehicle jerked a couple more times and eventually the engine sputtered and died.

James looked over at her, ready to issue a sarcastic comment.

"Don't look at me, I was repairing _doors_ all week," Juliet cut in before he could say anything.

James opened his door. "Alright, let's figure out what's wrong with this thing."

Juliet got out of the van. "It's probably just overheated."

"I can relate. Well, Supergirl," he said, walking around the front of the van and gesturing towards the hood, "fix it."

Juliet grabbed a pair of gloves and fixed him a look.

"What?" he asked. "I figured _Motor Pool Barbie_ would earn me a smack."

Juliet's mouth twitched and she slapped him with her gloves.

"So _really_ it don't matter what I call you, you're just gonna hit me anyway?" he said.

She popped the hood and stepped back to allow the steam to escape. "Woman, James," she said as she disappeared inside the engine. "Super_woman_."

James admired her from behind. "My mistake."

Juliet looked back over her shoulder and lowered her eyes, not buying the look of innocence he was attempting to return.

"So what's wrong with it?" he asked.

"Patience is not your strong suit, is it?" she said.

He peered into the engine as if doing so would give him the answer and then looked back up at Juliet, taking in her flushed cheeks and the strands of hair that were matted to the side of her face. "I've heard it's a virtue, but you want my opinion there are other ones more worth havin'."

"Oh really, like what?"

"Well," he smirked, "you be patient enough an' you'll find out."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Make yourself useful cowboy and grab the water barrel out the back."

"Yes ma'am," James replied, giving her a two-fingered salute. "You think it'll do any good? It's hot out."

"I hadn't noticed," Juliet replied, resting her hands on her hips and giving him a smile.

"I just meant the water's probably warm," he said, tilting the barrel and pouring the contents over the hissing engine.

"I know what you meant," Juliet replied, ducking out of the cloud of white vapor.

"So now what?" he asked.

"I guess we'll just have to wait," she said.

"Well alrighty then – but whatever shall we do while we wait?"

Juliet smiled sweetly and then tossed him the empty water barrel. "You can start by putting that away."

"Not exactly what I had in mind," he replied, heading to the back of the van. "Uh, Juliet?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we got a puncture."

Juliet sighed and crouched down to take a look. "Awesome."

James dumped the barrel and grabbed the spare tire, setting it down next to Juliet.

"Can you grab me the jack?" she asked.

James flashed her a smile, creating dimples in all the right places.

"Try not to enjoy this," she told him.

"How can I not?" he replied. "You're in a tank top and you're holding a tire iron."

Juliet set the jack under the tire frame. "Wafer thin ice."

"That ain't fair – at least give me something that'll last a little longer out here."

"Why, because it's hot?"

"Yeah, did you notice?"

Juliet tried not to laugh but James was making it difficult. "Are you going to help me change this tire or not?"

"Oh _I_ don't know _how_ to change a tire," James replied, his eyes dancing.

"_Really?_"

"Really."

"I don't believe you."

"Guess you'll just have to teach me."

Juliet sighed. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

James grinned.

Juliet raised the jack until it was supporting the van.

"Okay, so _now_ what are you doing?" he asked playfully.

"Um – I'm loosening the hubcap by turning the nuts," she replied.

"Hm, you're good at that."

Juliet laughed.

"What did I say?" James asked with mock incredulity.

"You know exactly what you said," Juliet replied.

She cranked the jack and the noise was enough to get them both giggling. James lost his balance and fell forward, knocking his head against Juliet's.

"Ouch," she laughed. "What is your head made out of, rocks?"

"Reinforced steel actually," he grinned, regaining his balance and handing her the spare tire.

"Oh. Well that explains the density," she said, before replacing the tire and aligning the rim with the wheel bolts.

James was looking at her with amusement. "Guess I walked into that one."

"You did," Juliet replied.

"This part goes there," James said, picking up a lug nut and putting it into place.

"Uh huh," she said, turning her head to look at him.

"You wanna work in a star pattern, to make sure they're all equally tight," James told her, a playful smile on his lips.

"Oh, so you _do_ know how to change a tire."

"Raised on country roads."

Juliet smirked and handed him a wrench. "_Well_, country boy, _you_ can finish it up."

James returned the look and then shuffled forward to get a better angle on the tire. He lost his footing again and Juliet reached out to stabilize him. One of his hands was now resting on Juliet's knee and she was holding it in place with her own hand.

"I kinda need that part," he said.

Juliet smiled. "Which part?"

"My hand," he replied.

"I thought you said you didn't want it back?"

"Well I can't finish this without it."

"I guess that depends on what you need to finish first," she replied, the look in her eyes leaving him with no doubt that she was _not_ talking about the tire.

He leant towards her, momentum pushing him forward and his lips were on hers before either one of them hit the ground.

"Mm," Juliet murmured, wrapping her arms his neck.

James smiled and kissed her again, working her lips apart and sliding his tongue alongside hers.

"Mm, that part definitely goes there," she whispered against his lips. Juliet pressed her hands against the back of his head, trying to pull him closer.

James chuckled. "What… about… the van?" he asked, in between kisses.

Juliet wrapped one of her legs around his. "It can wait."


	18. Stages of Grief: Reflection

**A/N: the site seems to have been a pain over the weekend and I have heard that notification emails weren't going out either, so just in case you missed the previous chapter - don't forget to go back and read it before this one :-)**

**Stages of Grief: Reflection**

_May 2008_

James is sitting on a park bench, sipping some coffee and reading _Stephen King_. He's not particularly a fan but Juliet was and he's found that each time he starts a new book, it's one of hers. It don't matter that he's read some of them before, what matters is that he's reading words he knows _she_ read.

He wants it to be easier than this. He wants to able to wake up one day and forgive himself for not keeping her on that sub. He can't change any of it – no one knows that more than he does – but he wants to anyway. Because it doesn't stop hurting. _He_ doesn't stop hurting. There's a hole in his chest where meaning used to be and every day he has to pretend to fill it so that he can convince everyone else that he's human. Some days are good, but most days he feels like he's drifting and there's not a single day that goes by when he doesn't miss her.

He can see the playground from where he's sitting and he thinks he's already spotted Clementine. He can't be sure because he ain't ever seen her but there's a girl standing on the swings pushing higher and higher – she kinda looks like him. James wonders if Cassidy resents that. This isn't the first time he's tried to find her but it's the first time he hasn't chickened out before trying to work out which kid was his. He knows he probably should have reached out to Cassidy first but he also has a good idea how that would've worked out.

He remembers the first time he told Juliet about Clementine – remembers how much faith she seemed to have in him that he could do the right thing. They'd been sitting on the porch a couple months later – Fourth of July – drinking beer and watching the fireworks. Juliet had turned to him and said that if they ever got out of here, he should track down Clementine and try to be a part of her life. James had given her a dubious look but Juliet had returned it with an 'I insist' expression that he knew better than to argue with. She'd also promised to have his back if he needed it.

_Damn it to hell_ he needed it.

"This is the kind of thing you can get arrested for."

He looks up and there's Cassidy, standing with her hands on her hips and looking a lot less the naive and overeager girl she used to be.

"I don't want any trouble," he tells her.

"I'll believe _that _when I see it," she replies, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

He doesn't even try to argue with her. He _could_. He could tell her to give him a break, to let it go, to give him a chance – but why should she? To her he'll always be a scumbag who conned her out of her savings and he ain't gonna convince her of anything if he takes away her power to scorn. He just sits there and listens to her list the reasons why he doesn't deserve to be here and he realizes he's forgotten what it's like to be _this_ guy.

"She said to give you a chance..." Cassidy says, once she's finished listing all of his faults, "if you came... she said I should at least talk to you."

James is faintly amused that she's shut up long enough for him to say anything – he was sure the sun was at a different angle when she'd started. "Who?" he asks.

"Kate," Cassidy replies as she sits down next to him.

"Oh," James says.

"Geez, what happened to you Sawyer? You're not even trying here – I gotta admit I thought the first thing you'd be doing is telling me I got it wrong."

James shakes his head. "You ain't got it wrong. I did those things. I took your money. An' I ain't gonna sit here and try to convince you that I cared, 'cause you ain't gonna believe me."

"You were a selfish bastard Sawyer and I don't believe Kate when she says you were being a hero. I don't believe you're capable of loving anybody more than you love yourself, let alone Clementine."

Cassidy looks over and she's surprised to see that his eyes are red. He's looking into the distance and his breathing is shallow – it looks as if he's doing his best not to swallow.

"I don't go by 'Sawyer' anymore, you should just call me James – Jim – call me Jim," he tells her, his voice small and rough.

Cassidy tilts her head and she's trying her best to link the man that she knows with the one that's sitting in front of her. "So what happened to you?" she repeats. "Is it Kate? Is that what happened?"

James smiles a little because he doesn't even know where or how to begin and he leans his head back against the bench. "Juliet," he whispers and it feels like a lifetime since he's said her name out loud.

"Who's Juliet?" Cassidy asks.

James can't find the words. "She –"

And tears he thought had long since dried were there again. "I's gonna ask her to marry me. We had three years – three years together – stuck on that goddamn Island. An' every one of those days... they were the best I ever had. People would tease us – they'd call her Mrs. La Fleur an' she'd put her hands on her hips an' stare 'em down. But truth is - she was. She was my wife... an' she died... in my arms."

Cassidy reaches out and touches his arm but he looks like he's no longer aware she's there. "Clementine can stay on those swings for hours if you let her, so I've got some time. You want to talk a little more? You can tell me about Juliet."

And he does.


	19. Diamonds and Rust

**Diamonds and Rust**

They'd taken refuge from the sun and were now lying in the shade beneath a banyan tree, her head resting against his chest. James was surprised by how easy it was to be with Juliet. He knew she was needed at the Motor Pool – knew that she was going to have to use one of her days off to make up for the fact that she hadn't been to work all day. He _also_ knew that she was going to have to dodge questions about why she'd been out gallivanting through the jungle and why the head of security had requested _her_ presence instead of someone from his team. He knew her non-answers would invite gossip.

Yet here she was relaxing against him, one arm draped across his stomach - looking as if there was nowhere else she needed to be.

James figured they could've started the Dharma Van an hour ago but when she didn't suggest it, neither did he. Part of him had wanted to head back just so that he could start exploring every inch of her skin and not just the parts that weren't covered by clothes, but _he_ knew as well as she did that a meeting with Horace and a mountain of paperwork awaited his return. This was as alone as they were going to get and as long as they were out here, they were going to take advantage of that.

Juliet stirred beside him.

"Nice nap?" he asked.

"Mm," she sighed, watching his fingers trail up and down her arm.

James smiled lopsidedly. "You enjoyin' that?"

Juliet tilted her head so that she could see his face – and so that _he_ could see her smile. She reached up and pushed his hair back, tucking the loose strands behind his ears - grinning when they didn't stay there.

"Sorry, it ain't tamable," he told her.

Juliet traced a finger down his cheek and along the side of his jaw. He hadn't shaved in three days but she didn't seem to mind. Her thumb brushed over his lips and he kissed her palm when it followed. Lifting her gently by the elbow, he tugged her toward him, pulling her on to his chest. Their lips met, salt mingling with sweat as his mouth moved over hers. Her lips parted and his tongue dipped in to taste her while his hands circled over her hips. He kissed her again, savoring the way her body felt against him. One of her hands brushed against the side of his face, her fingers moving through his hair as he tried to pull her closer. What had started out as a slow exploration was turning into heated desperation - he kept kissing her again and again, his tongue seeking hers, their mouths moving to the rhythm of his pulse – her pulse – hell he wasn't even sure anymore. James grazed his lips along her jaw, trying to catch his breath. His hands were still moving beneath the edge of her shirt and his fingers brushed over the scar on the small of her back.

"James."

He felt the shift almost immediately. Juliet pushed up a little to look at him – he imagined she would have pushed herself up all the way if he wasn't purposefully holding her in place, his fingers still tracing the outline of the mark that the Others had given her.

"Don't," she whispered.

Her eyes were wide, almost pleading and he could tell that she was embarrassed, so he did the only thing he could think of to do and kissed her again. She surprised him by not pulling away - instead she clung to him, pressing desperate kisses against his mouth.

"It's okay," he whispered back, tugging her towards him and rolling them over so that she was now lying beneath him.

Juliet smiled weakly as he brushed the hair out of her eyes and pressed a kiss against her temple. "Sorry," she said.

"Ah," he replied, "Not sure if you noticed but I had this pretty big freak out the other day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Said something stupid to do this girl I live with. Come to think of it, I'm probably lucky to be alive."

"Uh, huh," she said – faint amusement in her tone.

"Hell yeah, else I wouldn't be able to do this," he told her, kissing her once more.

"Mm," Juliet mumbled against him. "So you live with a girl, huh?"

James grinned. "Yeah, why, is that a problem?"

"I don't know, is she cute?"

"Never really thought about it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Although Miles might have mentioned something a while back 'bout her being hot," James replied.

"_Did_ he now?"

"Yeah, y'know, in - casual conversation."

"Uh, huh?"

"Yeah," he repeated, kissing her again.

Juliet grinned. "So," she began, trailing a finger down his cheek, "when Miles _happened _to mention – in casual conversation – that your roommate was – what did you say again?"

"Hot," James replied.

"Yes, that was it. Um, so what did you –"

His lips were on hers before she could finish the sentence.

"Mm, changing the subject," she mumbled.

James chuckled and rolled a little so that his elbow was resting on the ground next to her. He ran his fingers through her hair, watching the way she smiled up at him – almost lazily – and wandered why in the hell she'd allowed him to fix the mess he'd made. He was used to it, used to being an ass and used to being called on it. People left when he pushed them hard enough. But this was new – this give and take – having something to believe in, having someone who believed in him. James wasn't sure if it was something he'd always wanted – he'd made too many mistakes to start idealizing. But here he was, feeling about as close to perfect as he was ever going to get – and it was all he wanted now.

"You still here?" Juliet asked him.

He smiled. "Yeah."

She looked at him curiously. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he repeated, running his palm along her cheek. "I – I just... you… you're beautiful."

Juliet bit her lip, her expression telling him she wasn't all that used to hearing people say that, so he kissed her again, running his hands down her arms and lifting them so that she had no choice but to wrap them around his neck. Her lips told him just how much she appreciated him saying that.

"You're not so bad yourself," she replied eventually.

James grinned.

"_La Fleur! Come in, La Fleur!"_

James sighed, resting his forehead against Juliet's. "Tell me you don't hear that."

"_La Fleur! This is an emergency! Where are you? Pick up!" _

"'cause if _you_ didn't hear that, _I_ didn't hear that," he continued.

Juliet smiled. "Sounds like Stuart wants you."

"Crazy power monger probably just lost his glasses."

"_La Fleur! Dammit I need you!"_

James gave Juliet a look that told her in no uncertain terms that _his_ needs were far greater than _Radzinsky's_. She smiled at his frustration.

"You should get that," she told him, nodding towards the van. She pushed him gently, watching as he took his own sweet time in answering Radzinky's call for help.

James grabbed the walkie off the front seat. "What?"

"_La Fleur! It's Radzinsky."_

"_Yeah_, I _know_. I'm _busy_, what do you want?"

"_I need you at the Flame, right now!"_

"I don't got _time_ to go to the Flame, I've got work to do," James replied.

"_Just get over here. There's been a break-in."_

James rolled his eyes. "Great," he muttered.

"_What was that, I missed it, could you repeat, over?"_

James raised the walkie to his lips, "I said _thanks_ you bug-eyed ego maniac for ruinin' my evening. Gimme twenty minutes." He tossed the walkie back into the van.

Juliet was now standing beside him. "Come on," she said, squeezing his hand before climbing in through the driver's side and scooting over to make room for him. "Let's see if this thing starts."

It did.

"You wanna drop me back at the barracks before you head out?"

"No. If I don't take you with me, I'll never escape Radzinsky," he replied.

She smiled. "Well, we wouldn't want that."

James put the van into gear and drove off toward the communications station. "No, we wouldn't," he smiled.

Jin was waiting for them outside. "I try to handle but he insist on seeing you," he shrugged.

"'course he did," James sighed. He glanced back at Juliet – she seemed content to wait outside with Jin, not that he blamed her.

"So what happened?" he asked, watching Radzinsky pace back and forth across the carpet.

"Blueprints," Radzinsky said.

"You wanna elaborate that one for me, Sparky?"

"Blueprints, on my desk, in my study – _stolen_!"

"At the barracks?"

"Yes!"

"Then _why_ are we out _here_?"

"So that the thief won't know that I'm on to him!" Radzinsky hissed.

"Do you even _know_ who the thief is?"

"_No_. But _you're_ going to get on to it," Radzinsky replied, speaking in a tone one usually reserves for small children.

"What exactly _was in _these plans?" James asked, pushing his irritation aside.

"I've been mapping electro-magnetic hotspots across the Island. Horace still won't give the go-ahead to resume construction of the Orchid until we can improve the damn safety protocols, so I've been looking at ways to tap localized pockets of energy."

"_And?_" James asked, not remotely interested in the answer.

"And I found one. I created an outline, mapped the construction site – everything," Radzinsky told him.

"An' you're worried that if the plans fell into the wrong hands –"

"Don't try to tell me that the Hostiles haven't infiltrated our camp," Radzinsky interrupted. "I know they're behind this!"

"Alright Elmo, just calm down, we're gonna get to the bottom of this."

Radzinsky was glancing out the window. "Yes, well maybe if you hadn't been spending the entire day trying to impress your _girlfriend_, you'd have gotten to the bottom of this already."

"Watch your mouth," James warned, stepping close enough to make Radzinsky uncomfortable.

"If the Hostiles have seen these plans," Radzinsky continued, backing up a little, "then we _can't _dig there."

"So dig somewhere else," James replied.

"It's not that simple! These things take time. It could be years before I find another pocket worth exploring!"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," James told him, heading back out the door.

"Where are you going?" Radzinsky cried.

"To figure _this _out!"

Jin and Juliet were leaning against the van – the expressions on both their faces leaving him with no doubt that they'd heard every word.

"You think the hostiles would be interested in stealin' those blueprints?" he asked.

Juliet nodded. "As far as they're concerned, the Dharma Initiative shouldn't _be_ on this Island."

James let out a breath. "Yeah."

"You – talk to Richard?" Jin asked.

James looked at him and nodded.

"What he say?"

"That he didn't do it," James replied.

"You... believe him?"

"I believe _him_, but that don't mean someone else ain't behind it," James replied.

"_Other_, Others?" Juliet asked, almost amused.

James smiled. "C'mon, let's get back to the compound. I'm gonna have to drop you back home and head to security," he said, looking at Juliet. "That okay, with you?"

"Absolutely," she replied. "Why don't you and Jin take the jeep – I can drive the van back to the Motor Pool."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," he replied. "Thanks."

"I'll bring dinner later," Juliet said, grinning when Jin gave her a thumbs up.

She climbed back into the van and followed the jeep all the way back to the compound before splitting off and heading for the Motor Pool. By the time she'd parked and signed the vehicle manifest, night had fallen.

When she'd first arrived on the Island, it had taken her almost two months to get used to the darkness. Nights were black and even though a million stars would pattern the sky above, it was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of you. Juliet knew her way home well enough and wasn't particularly afraid of the dark but even she had to admit that the silence was spooky.

She was about to head for the barracks when somewhere behind her, something clattered to the ground, making her jump. She heard that sound every day, although usually it was accompanied by blow torches, electric sanders and work place chatter. It was the sound of metal hitting concrete. Juliet grabbed a flashlight from one of the drawers - she couldn't see anything from this side of the van so she walked around it, lifting the flashlight and squinting down the other end of the Motor Pool.

She could hear the blood pumping through her ears as she walked - one cautious step in front of the other, aware that the hairs on her skin were standing on end - looking ahead and then down the length of each vehicle.

She spotted it next to one of the jeeps – a wrench lying near one of the tires. It must have fallen off the workbench. Breathing a sigh of relief, Juliet wiped the cold sweat off her brow. She bent down to pick it up and placed it on one of the counter tops - someone would put it away in the morning.

She turned to go, rounded the jeep and smacked straight into something solid. She screamed, dropping the flashlight and stumbled when the 'something solid' began to move. She could feel strong hands gripping her arms and didn't hesitate before sending her knee into her assailant's stomach. She heard a grunt – unmistakably male – and kicked out nailing her boot in his groin. Her attacker stumbled and she used the moment to jam her elbow into his solar plexus, sending him spiraling toward the floor. Placing one knee in the small of his back, Juliet grabbed his arm and twisted it back over his shoulder. She ignored his cry of pain and grabbing the flashlight, aimed it at his face.

"_Willie?_"

"Yeah..." Willie groaned.

"What are you _doing_ here?"

"I'm sorry, I saw you come back but I didn't want to startle you so I hid, but I knocked the stupid wrench over and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Juliet released the hold she had on him and helped him to his feet. "You scared the hell out of me," she said.

"I'm sorry," Willie repeated. "There was a spill but one of the kids got sick in the cafeteria today and they said to make that a priority. Then I had to go security because that guy Miles wanted to ask me a bit more about my – you know – my kidnapping and then I went home, took a shower – I forgot about the spill so I came back out here to finish up."

"Okay," Juliet said. "Okay – well no harm done just next time let someone know you're here."

Willie nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'm just, I'm gonna go now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Juliet replied. "Oh wait, have you eaten? I'm already cooking for four if you're hungry."

"Oh thanks, but I'm good," Willie told her, "I was just gonna stop by the cafeteria and grab some of the lunch leftovers. The kitchen staff made lasagna."

"But... isn't the cafeteria closed?"

"Yeah it is," Willie replied, "but best thing about being a janitor – actually probably the _only_ good thing – I have keys to everything. 'night Juliet."

"Goodnight," she replied.

Juliet watched him go, unable to focus on anything but his last words. Her blood ran cold.

_Willie had keys to everything._


	20. Search and Destroy

**Search and Destroy.**

Juliet forgot about dinner.

She walked through her front door, went straight to the refrigerator – opened it, closed it and walked back out again.

She ran all the way to Security.

"James!" she called, managing to slow down just before she could smack into Miles' makeshift crime board.

Phil stepped out of the storage room and for the second time that evening, her heart leapt into her throat.

"La Fleur's not here," Phil told her. "He had to go to a meeting at Horace's place. Is there anything _I_ can help you with?"

Juliet stared at him, wondering if it would be impolite of her to say "no".

"Is Miles here?" she asked.

"No. He went too," Phil replied. "Look if there's something I can –"

"Jin?"

"Um. Also no."

_Great_, Juliet thought – she would rather write an ode to her ex-husband than tell Phil about her suspicions. Since Willie's 'kidnapping', Phil had practically worshipped the stringy janitor for surviving his encounter with the Others. She wasn't about to go and tell him that she suspected Willie had faked all of it. And even if she did, she harbored no doubts about how crazy she'd sound – after all – the security team had gotten into a very _real_ gunfight because of it.

And why fake it at all? Why do any of this? Even _she_ didn't have an answer.

Juliet knew that the only person she trusted with this information was James.

"Juliet?" Phil was looking at her with what could pass for concern but what could also have been mild irritation.

Miles called Phil 'old school' – the man believed that all women were fanciful and ultimately destined for domesticity. He almost resented women like Juliet – who were more comfortable with grease and a gun than they were with a needle and apron. It irritated him that Juliet wouldn't tell him what was wrong.

Juliet didn't care.

"If James comes back, would you let him know I stopped by? Tell him it's urgent."

"Sure thing," Phil replied, watching her run back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Juliet raced back across the compound – she had no idea how long James would be at Horace's and even though a part of her knew she should just sit tight and wait him to come home, she also knew she wasn't a 'sit tight' kind of girl.

She went back to the house first. If she was going to go snooping around, she wasn't going to leave James without any idea as to where she'd gone. Juliet grabbed the notepad off the coffee table – she could still see the imprint where James had scribbled the word "REAL". Picking up a pen lying next to a pile of crossword puzzles, Juliet pressed it against the notepad and wrote the word "Willie!" and underneath that "keys!" She underlined it three times and then stuck it on the fridge. James wasn't stupid – he didn't need an dissertation to figure out what she meant.

Juliet grabbed a jacket and headed back out the door. Deciding that it wasn't worth anybody thinking she'd gone completely crazy, she _walked_ towards Willie's place. The house was in darkness. Willie's roommate, Carl, was a scientist on Hydra Island and was rarely home. Juliet hoped like hell the lasagna was good enough to warrant a second helping.

She knocked on the door just to be certain. When there was no answer, she ducked around the side of the house and crawled in through the window. Juliet still had the flashlight from the Motor Pool – turning it on; she set it to a narrow beam and aimed it at the floor. She wasn't going to waste any time looking for clues in the general living quarters – she headed straight for Willie's bedroom. It wasn't difficult to determine which one was his – the first bedroom was clean and well-kept, apart from a lone book on the bedside table; it looked more like a spare room than someone's living space.

The second room was a mine field of work boots, laundry, comic books and empty bags of potato chips.

Juliet sighed. _This is going to be fun. _

She waded through his bedroom – checking drawers, looking underneath the bed, between the pillows and finally running her hand in between the mattress. She opened up his cupboards and checked the pockets of his spare jumpsuit – when that turned up nothing, she grabbed his boots, turning them upside down and giving them a shake.

_Nothing._

Juliet let out a breath. If she could _just_ find those blueprints, she'd know her instincts had been correct. She glanced around the room, trying to think of anywhere else she could look for them. Willie was young and both his IQ and personality tests had scored him a place as a Dharma workman. If he wasn't smart enough to move his empty _Cheeto bag_ from the floor to the waste basket three feet away, she didn't think he'd be bright enough to put _this_ much thought into where he'd hide the plans. Juliet stood up and took one last look around the room – just to ensure she hadn't missed anything. She couldn't waste any more time – she had to get out now before Willie came back. She turned to go, pausing to sidestep a small mountain of beer cans. When her foot reconnected with the rug the wood beneath it groaned.

Juliet looked down. Outside of the research labs, there were very few secrets amongst the Dharma Initiative. It was a small community and if you didn't take precautions to hide your business – everybody knew it – and even if you did, there was no guarantee that people wouldn't find out anyway. If you wanted to keep a secret, underneath a floorboard was probably the best place to put it. Rolling back the rug, she located the loose piece of wood and lifted it carefully before setting it aside. Aiming the flashlight at the hole, she peered inside.

_Jackpot._

Juliet picked up the roll of blue and white papers and unraveled them. They were definitely Radzinsky's. The blueprints contained diagrams, notations, equations and most importantly – a map of the Island. There was also something else beneath the floorboards – two video tapes. Juliet would've bet an entire year's salary – whatever the timeline – that the tapes were the ones that had been stolen. She needed to find James – and fast. She couldn't just go running to Security with them – they _needed_ to find them there. She started rolling up the plans and was placing them back beneath the floor when she heard a latch click and footsteps entering through the front door.

Juliet froze. _Willie was back._ She could hear him walking around the living room and knew it was only a matter of time before he headed her way. As carefully and quietly as she could, she lowered the piece of wood back into place.

Juliet had read a book like this a few years ago – relatively speaking - a young girl was trying to solve her sister's murder and she'd found the evidence she needed beneath the floorboards of a neighbor's house. Her sister's killer had returned while she was still searching. Juliet hoped like hell she did nothing to alert Willie to her presence.

The wood went into its slot with barely a sound but Juliet knew she was out of time. She backed up slowly, rolling the rug into place – by now Willie's footsteps were heading down the hallway towards her. The only place she could conceivably hide was behind the door – and she was on the opposite side of the room. If she made a break for it now, he would spot her shadow across the doorframe. The floor was littered with Willie's crap and there was no way she could squeeze herself under the bed without disrupting something. Willie's footfalls were getting closer and Juliet was starting to panic – she had no doubt she could take him in a fight but the last thing she wanted was her word against his. Willie had been with the Dharma Initiative longer. A light came on in the hall and she watched his shadow move closer and closer. Juliet glanced behind her, the window was open and it was now or never. She did her best to match the fall of his footsteps and then dived out the window into the flowerbed below. She didn't move until she was sure that Willie hadn't heard her.

She could now hear Willie moving about the room and she risked a peek over the window ledge. He had rolled back the rug she'd just set in place and was digging the blueprints up from beneath the floorboards.

_Dammit._ If he was going to move them, she needed to know where and she couldn't let him out of her sight until she did. She watched as Willie rolled up the plans as tightly as he could and stuck them down the front of his work uniform before heading out the door. The hall light switched off and the house was bathed in darkness once more. Juliet heard the front door slam and crept around the side of the house to get a better view of him. She was trying not to think about the stupidity involved in doing this alone, but she was in this now and she didn't have a choice. All she could do now was follow him.

The first stop he made was the Motor Pool. He grabbed a set of keys and climbed in one of the vans – the same van that Juliet had just brought back. Juliet gave him a head start before getting into one of the jeeps and heading off after him. Willie was smart enough to keep his lights off while he was close enough to the barracks to be spotted but as soon as he was passed the pylons, he turned them on. Juliet followed at a safe distance, keeping her own lights switched off. A small part of her hoped that Phil had been paying close enough attention to the monitors to spot one or both of them leaving.

Juliet was only just managing to keep him in her sights, driving in the dark was stupid - driving in the dark without lights, was suicidal.

Eventually, Willie stopped. Juliet pulled over, hoping that the density of the trees was enough to conceal the jeep. She watched as he got out of the van, the headlights enhancing his silhouette. Someone else had come out of the jungle and was walking towards him. Whoever it was, he was long-haired and broad shouldered. He wasn't necessarily tall but he stood with those shoulders back and his chest puffed out – anyone else might have found him intimidating. It definitely wasn't Richard.

Juliet got out of the jeep. She was too far away to see _who _was behind the sabotage and she was too far away to _hear_ the reasons why. She crept forward through the jungle brush as quickly as she could. Willie hadn't bothered to turn the engine off – a fact for which she was grateful because it masked any sound she made. When she was close enough to make out what they were saying, Juliet crouched down to listen.

"Did you get what I asked for?" the man asked. Juliet didn't recognize him but his voice was vaguely familiar. He sounded English – or Australian – she was having trouble hearing over the sound of the engine. She watched Willie nod and reach into his jumpsuit, handing over the blueprints. The older man unraveled the papers and examined them.

"Excellent," he said. "You've done a remarkable job, William."

"It's Willie," the younger replied.

"Yes, of course," the man drawled. His tone was arrogant, patronizing and Juliet was now certain who the owner of that voice was. "However, I couldn't help but notice that Horace Goodspeed is still alive."

Willie looked at the floor. "I – I tried. I rigged the wires in his house – I, I got burned, see?" Willie held out his hands.

Juliet squinted in the darkness - Willie still had faint burn marks all over his hands. She closed her eyes. She'd have known – if she had been the one to examine Willie when the Security team had come back from the shootout – she'd have known that they were electrical burns rather than the localized injury you would expect from burning your hand on the stove. _That's_ why he'd gone for the first aid kit – he couldn't risk a doctor taking a look at his hands.

"Then why didn't it work?" the man continued.

"I'm, I'm not an electrician," Willie stumbled, "and Horace spends a lot of time at – at a woman's house. Amy – that's her name. I'm – I'm sorry, but the good news is that the damage is done – they're confused, they're panicking. I don't see why the death of one man is so important?"

"Because you idiot," the man replied. "You take down Horace; you dismantle the entire structure of the _Dharma Initiative_. Right now, that man is the only person standing between order and chaos. He keeps everyone in line and thus – this ridiculous truce stands. With Horace out of the way, it wouldn't be long before one of them screwed up and we could declare all out war."

Willie looked up, nodding as if it all made sense.

"Now, I can guarantee you the money you want and safe passage off the Island," the man told him in a tone that suggested to Juliet he had no intention of keeping such a promise. "But I need you to do one last thing for me."

Willie nodded again. The man handed him a pistol.

"Kill Horace Goodspeed."

Willie looked down and then up again. "And I will be able to go?"

"Yes Willie, you will be able to go," the man replied.

"Thank you, Sir. Thank you Mister Widmore."

"You're quite welcome, Willie."

Juliet watched Widmore, her suspicion now confirmed, as Willie got back into the van and drove off.

Widmore shoved his hands into his pockets. "I think the _Dharma Initiative_ could do with some new screening protocols if their inhabitants can bend so easily," he said to himself, turning around and disappearing into the jungle.

Juliet stayed, crouching in the bushes for another ten minutes before heading back to the jeep. She risked giving Willie one hell of a head start but it was an even bigger risk to go rushing off with Widmore still nearby. Making it back to the jeep in one piece, she tore off after Willie - this time keeping her headlights _on_. The point was to get back to the barracks as quickly as she could – it didn't matter anymore whether or not Willie would see her. She pushed the pedal to the floor, cursing the Island's dirt tracks and uneven terrain and trying to calculate the math in her head. Willie was driving a van – not really known for its speed. She estimated she might just make it back before he did.

Juliet was twenty minutes out from the Pylons when she made out a figure standing on the side of the road waving his arms in the air. It was Willie. Not far from him, was the Dharma Van, issuing a jet full of steam out its front. Juliet couldn't believe her luck. She and James had exhausted the van earlier that day and now it had gone and broken down on Willie. No doubt, Willie thought that Juliet was someone from Security coming back from patrol or a research station and he was trying to flag her down. Juliet flew straight past him. _Game on,_ she thought.

She was ten minutes from the Pylons when she felt the jeep lurch beneath her. The vehicle spun wildly and she jerked on the steering wheel, turning it the opposite way and trying to bring it under control. She pressed down on the brake pad but nothing happened – the _jeep wouldn't slow down_. Juliet jammed the gear into neutral, hoping that if she couldn't slow it down, she could stall it. The jeep bucked in response but it wasn't enough – Juliet had been racing the entire way back to the compound and momentum was keeping it going.

All she could do was hold on.

She saw it coming just seconds before it happened. Her vehicle hit a small incline dead on at half speed and flipped. Juliet flew through the air and landed in the tall grass. She had just enough presence of mind to realize that _that_ was why Willie had been at the Motor Pool earlier – he'd tampered with the vehicles. Juliet tried to move but her body ached and every muscle protested – she knew she had to get back but right now she was just fighting to stay awake.

_James_, she thought, before finally giving in to unconsciousness.


	21. Won't Get Fooled Again

**Won't Get Fooled Again**

James was exhausted.

He'd spent the entire day hiking through the jungle, negotiating with hostiles and fixing broken-down vans – all in a hundred degree heat. His entire evening had consisted of placating Radzinsky, filing papers, briefing his team and then sitting through a four hour Security brief with Horace. The _only_ part of his day that he refused to file under exhaustion was the two hour interlude he'd spent lying in the grass with Juliet.

_Juliet._

He wasn't sure that either of them could keep this up at the speed they were going without waking up the next morning wrapped in a bed sheet, legs tangled 'round each other.

Miles kept looking at him suspiciously every time he asked Horace to repeat something and _Horace_ kept asking him if he was okay because he kept _excusing_ himself to go to the bathroom. James didn't really care right now that Radzinsky's plans had been stolen – he didn't care if someone went and set fire to the barracks just as long as the one house they didn't touch was his and Juliet's.

And he couldn't stop thinking about what they'd be doing while the rest of Dharmaville burned.

Every time he touched her, kissed her, he wasn't sure how to describe it but it felt like breathing – which was ironic because they seemed to be spending a lot of time doing everything _but _breathing. It was like he'd been drowning – truth was he'd been drowning long before he ever came to this island but as much as he hated this place, it was here that he'd also discovered his worth. Such as it was.

James didn't believe he'd changed, but whenever Juliet sat with him, talked to him – hell even when she threw his dirty boots at him – she'd look at him with an expression that suggested he _had_. Juliet never asked him to change and he doubted she ever would - so he wondered if that meant she didn't want him to. She just called him out when he was being a jerk and he found some way to apologize. It struck him as he neared his front porch that maybe this _was_ him. Apologizing wasn't nearly so hard when people got off your ass about doing it. All anybody had ever wanted from him was an apology for being who he was. Juliet was more concerned about matching the amount of beer he drank when they sat out on the porch, or beating him (and everybody else) at Wednesday night poker.

He got it now.

She didn't care that he was some washed up ex-con – she just cared that he kept his soiled boots outside when he came home at night.

_Well – maybe that's not the _only _thing_, he thought.

He knew she cared about whether or not he was being honest with her. He knows how much he hurt her by suggesting she'd had something to do with the current mess in Dharmaville – even if he'd only said it because he'd spooked himself.

Standing on the porch steps he made a pact to always be honest with her – he wasn't sure if he could live up to it but if it was the one thing she wanted, the least he could do was give her that. In fact, he was going to march right into their house right now and tell her that – he was also debating whether or not letting her know he was interested in seeing her very, _very_ naked, might be a little _too_ honest. Then again, the way those eyes of hers pierced right through him, she probably already knew.

James went inside.

He was a little surprised to find the house in darkness – it was well past midnight so he expected Juliet would be asleep but usually she left a light on for him when he had to work late. James headed for the kitchen. He could just make out a note on the refrigerator and grinned. He wondered why, after ten months of living together, she still left instructions about where she'd put his dinner – as if she didn't always stick it in the fridge – as if _he_ didn't know that she _did_.

He actually liked that she cared enough to leave them.

James opened the refrigerator door expecting to see a plate of food on the top shelf.

_Nothing_.

He knew Juliet had planned on bringing them all dinner but he had a hard time believing that she would have left it at Security. If she'd gone down there, Phil would have let her know that they were up at Horace's. Maybe she'd changed her mind about cooking - after all - they'd both had one hell of a day.

James heard footsteps hurrying along the porch and turned around to see Phil knocking on the still-open front door.

"Mister La Fleur," Phil said, nodding.

James rolled his eyes. _Now what?_ "Come on in, Phil."

"Thank you," Phil replied, nervously.

James studied the man; hunched shoulders, eyebrows knit closely together – not that this was a particularly difficult achievement for Phil – foot tapping against the doorframe. He looked like he was about to throw up.

James sighed. He'd had it up to _here_ with people disturbing his happy, hippy life. "Spit it out."

"I, I, I caught something on the monitors," Phil stammered.

"Well, do we gotta stand here and do a round of charades? " James drawled, when Phil didn't offer up anything further.

"I missed it," Phil continued. "I only caught it when I played back the feed. I was focusing on the compound monitors, not the externals – I was just running off of what you told us at the debrief – that it could be an inside job. I didn't catch it until a moment ago –"

"Jesus, Phil, quit circlin'! What did you see, dammit?"

"An unauthorized van, heading past the pylons."

"_Shit_. You see who was in it?"

Phil shook his head. "But he was definitely male, wearing a beige uniform and he had a peak cap pulled low over his head. Probably to disguise himself."

James gave him a look. "Ya think?"

Phil looked down and up again in a way that told him there was more to the story.

"_Don't _make me ask," James growled.

"A jeep went out – just a few minutes behind it," Phil replied quietly.

"An' I take you saw who was drivin'?"

"I can't be certain but – Juliet ran down to Security earlier. She looked panicked and she was asking for you. She ran off before I could ask her what was wrong."

"You think it was Juliet in that jeep?"

"I believe so. Whoever it was, they had long blonde hair, could've been light brown, I guess."

James nodded, suddenly remembering the note. He raced back to the kitchen, turned on the light and yanked the piece of paper off the fridge. On it were two words – "Willie!" and "Keys!" _"Keys!"_ had been underlined three times.

_Could the woman have _been_ more cryptic? What the hell did "Willie!" and "Keys!" mean? _Willie's _keys? Willie_ is_ the key? Willie _has_ keys? Wait. Willie has keys. He's a janitor – he pretty much comes and goes wherever he wants and nobody ever questions it._

"Juliet!" he called, running down the hall and into her bedroom. "Juliet!"

He didn't honestly expect her to be there, but the thought that she could be anywhere else had caused him to break into a cold sweat. The moisture had drained from his mouth and it was taking a lot of effort to regain control of his tongue.

"Phil," he barked, "Radio Miles, tell him he an' Jin gotta stop puttin' their jammies on. Tell 'em to get their asses up to Willie's house. While you're _doin'_ that, _get _Jerry an' while you're doin' _that_ wake up the whole damn team."

James grabbed a pistol and his rifle, already heading out the door. Phil followed, simultaneously issuing orders into his walkie. Ten minutes later, they had busted into Willie's home. Jin was at least taking care to sweep the area, Miles was a little more reckless – charging in and knocking things over - and James didn't give a shit about precautions.

Within minutes they'd found the tapes. Willie had left the rug pushed back and it wasn't difficult to put two and two together. These houses weren't exactly state of the art, they all had a loose floorboard somewhere – hell James had discovered one in his bedroom a month back and just covered it up with the dresser, telling himself he'd fix it some other time.

"La Fleur?"

James spun 'round and spotted Phil standing outside beneath the window. "What d'you got?"

"Footprints. One set. Standard work boots but –"

"Smaller size?" James finished.

"Can't be Willie's," Miles said, popping his head out the window. "Have you seen that kid's feet?"

"Yeah," James replied. "Could've been a clown and wouldn't have needed to practice walkin' in those shoes."

Miles looked at James. "They've gotta be Juliet's. She must have followed him for some reason."

"Yeah," James replied. "An' we gotta find out why. Right after we find _her_."

"Jim," Miles said quietly as they headed out into the hall. "We can't just go running around the jungle in the dark."

"The hell we can't," James growled.

"We don't have enough firepower and we _don't_ even know where to _start_," Miles told him, putting a firm hand on his arm. He half expected James to punch him, but Miles didn't back down. "Let's find a place to start first. I wanna find her too, but we can't help her if we're looking in the wrong direction."

James sighed heavily and nodded.

Once they were all outside, James fixed his team with a look that everyone in the _Dharma Initiative_ knew better than to argue with. "Alright, everyone, let's get to work. We're gonna catch this sonuvabitch."

"How're we gonna do that?" Jerry asked.

James marched off towards Security. "By tracin' Juliet's last steps."

_xxx_

He watched Juliet come back to the Motor Pool – he saw her get out of the van, saw the way she jumped when something startled her, he watched as Juliet kicked the crap out of Willie. She'd gone home and just as suddenly started running like a bat out of hell toward Security and then she walked up to Willie's house. James watched her follow Willie back down to the Motor Pool and then he saw what Phil had seen on the playback. Juliet had taken the jeep past the pylons, heading after the van that Willie had stolen. Judging by the timestamp on the video, Juliet had been gone for more than three hours. He figured she didn't report it because she couldn't risk letting Willie out of her sight – but the fact that she hadn't come back was what had him worried now.

He had a team on high alert, watching out for the janitor-cum-turncoat – if he showed his face at all they'd get him. Willie had left for a reason – and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that it was because he was delivering something to the Hostiles. He fully expected Willie to return and when he did, James was going to put the fear of God into him. He'd learned, during his time on the Island that a good intimidation didn't necessarily involve fists. But if Willie had done something – _anything_ – to hurt Juliet then no God was going to help him out of the hell that he'd find himself in once James got through with him.

The minute the sky shifted from black to grey he began breaking everyone up into teams and handing out assignments. Officially, priority one was securing Willie but no one doubted that when the head of security announced the second search and rescue of that week, that if they came back without any signs of Juliet, they'd be setting up permanent quarters on Hydra Island.

The entire team was gathered at the Motor Pool when Jin came rushing over, shouting in Korean.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down Chewie," James told him. "What?"

"I finished the tape before Juliet's return," Jin said quickly.

James had asked Jin to map Willie's movements _before_ Juliet had returned the van to the Motor Pool.

"Willie, um…" Jin continued, waving a hand in the air clearly searching for the English word, "mess – mess – with vehicle."

"What d'you mean, tamper?" James asked.

"Yes! Yes! Tamper!" Jin replied.

"Which one?"

"Not one," Jin told him. "_All!_"

James looked over his shoulder at the teams already climbing into the jeeps. "Hold up!" he called.

"This one, this one," said Jin, pointing to one jeep and then another, "they okay. Rest, no."

"Sonuvabitch," James spat. "Jerry, stay here, _shut _down the Motor Pool. Miles, Phil get in that jeep and go. Stay on the radio."

"Sure thing, Boss," Miles replied. "We can fit two, maybe three more in the back."

"Fine, whatever, pick your team, go!"

Jin drew him to one side. "Jim. The jeep that Juliet take – Willie also tamper."

James rubbed a hand across his face, trying to suppress the pool of bile collecting in his throat. "C'mon, you an' me are takin' the other jeep."

Jin jumped in the driver's seat – ignoring the look of protest that James had given him. "_I_ drive. _You_ look," he said simply.

James nodded and climbed into the passenger seat. He'd changed his mind - Willie Sanchez was a dead man.


	22. Stages of Grief: Reconstruction

**Stages of Grief: Reconstruction**

_July 2008_

She asks him to meet her at a coffee place downtown.

He picks up the phone and hears her voice and it's like he rolled out of bed and stepped into a dream. The first time she asks, he tells her "No, but thanks". The second time she asks, he sighs and agrees, telling her he can meet her on Thursday after his meeting at the bank. Miles was taking this P.I thing seriously and at first – James is just rolling with it but now they've got a business and they're spending a lot of time hunting down premises. It's given him something to do and he finds it's a whole lot better than sitting still. So he's gotta go to the bank and sign some papers because he forgot to do it last week when Miles asked him to.

He gets to the coffee shop and she's already there, sitting at a table by the window. Her hair is neater and straighter than he's ever seen it and he finds that unsettling – like Sharper Image tried to turn her into a doll but found that wild jungle hair wouldn't sell.

"Hi Sawyer," she smiles.

For a moment he's taken aback because it's been a while since anybody called him that. "Hi, Kate," he replies sitting down opposite her. "You look good."

"You look tired," Kate replies.

James smiles. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

It's weird at first - sitting here drinking coffee with Kate. For anybody else it's normal, for them – for the time in their lives where their worlds had collided nothing had been normal, so watching her sit there and pour milk into her coffee as if it was part of _their_ normal, was unnerving.

"Cassidy told me you've been seeing Clementine," she says, picking apart a blueberry muffin.

"Yeah," James replies, wondering why in the hell he agreed to this meeting.

"She says you're trying. Who knows, maybe sometime this life she'll be able to let it go," Kate continues. "Aaron's great. He's getting so big. Claire's adjusting – sort of – we take it one day at a time. I'm pretty sure the teachers at the school think Claire and I are –"

"Kate, what are you doing here?" he interrupts.

"I guess I just wanted to – I wanted to see how you were doing. Claire's great but I can't – I can't talk to her about Jack. She has enough problems without worrying about mine."

"Is that why you're here – to talk about Jack?" he asks.

"I don't know."

James nods; he actually knows how she feels. _He_ lost someone, _she_ lost someone and he knows how this works in the movies. But his life ain't a movie – and if any part of it came close it was the part where he'd jumped off a helicopter and washed up the beach next to some blonde, because they'd both lost it all and then found something better with each other.

He doesn't want to do this dance with Kate. He knows he can't - and probably won't - be this loner forever, but he doesn't want to be a part of Kate's life. He doesn't need the reminder of his life on that Island. They couldn't just pick up where they left off anymore than he could change the past. He didn't love Kate – he did once and – when she came back it was like living in a memory that nobody had really shut the door on. It hurt him, it confused him and it blinded him to the pain that had built up inside Juliet. He knew that now – he'd played every moment over and over in his head enough times to be able to see just how stupid he was. It had never occurred to him that she would _ever _think he'd want to leave her - and it had cost him everything.

The last thing he needed was to be reminded of that every single day – any more than he already was. He can't build himself a life with old bricks.

James sits there for another hour and Kate does most of the talking. He knows he's being a bit of a jerk but he just wants to get out of there. There's some old pervert sitting on a stool at the counter and he keeps looking over at them – he probably thinks they're having some kind of domestic, the way _she_ keeps talking, the way _he_ keeps staring out the window. He needs to get away from people who don't know shit about his life.

"We should do this again," she says, eventually.

"I can't," he replies.

She nods as if it's what she expected him to say.

They say their goodbyes and she gives him a hug before getting in her car and driving off. James heads down the street, thinking about how badly he wants to get out of LA.

It starts to rain – if you can call it that in this city. He doesn't mind getting wet but he's got a stack of papers with him and it's probably not such a good idea to ruin insurance papers the first day he gets them. There's a bookstore up ahead and he ducks inside. It has one of those old-fashioned bells on the door and the place smells like damp. Every book on the shelf looks dated. There's a glass display case labeled "One of a kind – limited editions" and next to that, a couple of stuffed armchairs flank a fake fireplace. Everything in here is old and he's certain those top shelves ain't ever been dusted.

He's browsing the shelves when the bell rings again and he spots the coffee counter creep entering the bookstore. He looks about sixty years old – though it's hard to tell with the beard.

"You followin' me?" James asked, walking past an archive of old newspapers.

"I saw you in the coffee house," the man tells him.

"No shit," James replies. "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry, it's just – you look just like him."

James studies the man –he's taller than James but he's also thin and slightly hunched. "Look just like _who_?" he asks.

"Um. Your father," the man replies. "I, I assume."

"An' how would _you _know my daddy?" James says quietly.

"I – um – I guess we were neighbors once."

"In Jasper?" James asked.

"Uh. No. We worked on the same Island for a while, a long time ago now."

James looked at the man as if seeing him for the first time.

"I guess you could say he saved my life once - gave me a break when I didn't deserve it. Could've killed me but – for some reason he let me go," the man continued. "You are… Jim La Fleur's kid right?"

James didn't know what to say – the guy's math was about eight years off but he imagined that this was the only explanation his brain could come up with. He knew who he was looking at – knew the minute he'd looked down briefly and spotted feet _Hagrid_ would have been proud of.

He was standing in front of Willie Sanchez.

What could he say – _yes, no, actually I'm a time traveler an' when we first met I was already from the future?_

"Yeah," he says eventually. "That'd be about right."

Willie smiles, nervously. "He – uh – is he still around?"

"Yeah," James replies. "He's still around."

"Last time I saw him, he was kicking me out of a job. I'm lucky that's _all_ he did – I nearly got his girlfriend killed. Well, I don't really know if she _was_ his girlfriend, I mean they lived together and everybody thought… but then I left so… anyway I got a broken nose as a souvenir."

James'chest tightens and he's finding difficult to breathe. Here's this literal blast from the past standing right in front of him and _this_ man doesn't know what he's been through – doesn't realize that the woman he's talking about so casually is the same woman that he – James – lost six months ago. He wants to say something; he has this urge to shout – to tell Willie Sanchez to shut the hell up.

But he knows why he can't breathe. He can't breathe because he remembers.

While Willie Sanchez was sabotaging Dharmville, James was beginning his relationship with Juliet. In the months that followed, Willie's exit became a distant memory, merely marking the first time that he and Juliet had kissed one another without reserve, touched each other as if letting go would physically hurt them. It was a blip on the radar of things happening on the Island the first time they made love - and it marked the first time he knew he didn't want to live without her.

Willie Sanchez could've just walked right up to him and stabbed him in the chest – that's what this felt like. And what's worse is the man is gone just as soon as he came and James is left standing in a bookstore, bleeding all over the floor. He takes a breath – 'cause he knows it's been about ten minutes since he took one.

He turns around, leaning his arms against the table with the newspapers and he breathes. It's been a while since raw pain stabbed him in the chest like this.

James finds himself sitting in one of the armchairs. He ain't ready to leave just yet and he sits with one of the archives on his knee – he's paging through dates he missed while he was on the Island, working his way backwards. When he gets to September 22nd 2004, he ignores the headlines and he just keeps paging back. He doesn't really have a method here but reading makes him think less about his own sorry self.

It happens before closing time.

He's been there for hours and he's a little surprised that no one's kicked him out already. That's when he sees it – he's flipping through the classifieds and there she is.

Her face is staring right back at him.

Her hair is curled and she's a lot younger than he ever remembers but there's no mistaking those eyes and that shy smile. After a few minutes he draws his eyes away from the picture to read the byline beneath it.

_Have you seen this woman?_

_Doctor Juliet Burke._

_Missing for 7 months._

_If you have any information as to her whereabouts please call Rachel Carlson._

James looks at the date and does the math. Juliet would have been on the Island for over a year when her sister placed this ad. For six years now, Rachel Carlson has probably believed her sister is dead - after she walked into a research facility one afternoon and vanished off the face of the earth.

James looks at the number on the ad – it's a Miami number – and he wonders if it's still active. Even if it isn't, it doesn't matter – he and Miles weren't doing the P.I thing just because they're bored. They had skills – and now they had resources. Miles wanted to be a cowboy? Fine. James had just found them their first case.


	23. Nights Are Forever Without You

**Nights Are Forever Without You**

Jin wasn't driving nearly as fast as James needed him to.

Every time James yelled, Jin would just keep going the speed he was, muttering insults in Korean. Rationally, James knew they couldn't go any faster without risking an incident but right now all he could think about was Juliet – he didn't give a damn if anyone was offended by his brazen behavior, he was too busy giving Reason the finger.

The jeeps had split off at the pylons – Miles had more manpower and although his orders were to locate and apprehend Willie Sanchez, he knew that the update reports his boss kept demanding over the walkie at two minute intervals had _nothing_ to do with whether or not they'd found him yet. Miles was in agreement and he had no doubts that if the team came back without Juliet – heads would roll.

James was standing on his seat, resting his arms on the metal frame so that he could get a better view of the terrain ahead.

All he saw was grass and trees.

He beat his fist against the frame - for all he knew, they could be going in the wrong direction. They'd taken a chance that Juliet would have stayed on one of the main tracks leading away from the compound and right now the road they were on was one of two best bets.

Ten minutes out, his walkie crackled to life. _"La Fleur! Come in! Jim, you there?"_

"Yeah, Miles, what do you got?" James yelled into the receiver.

"_I can see another jeep up ahead! Shit, Jim it's on its head. No sign of Willie's van and I can't see any movement, we're two minutes out!"_

Jin was already turning the jeep around and heading back the other way.

"Can you _see_ Juliet?" James yelled back.

"_Negative, but there's a field nearby - she could've been thrown, could've landed anywhere,"_ Miles replied.

"We're on our way. Miles?"

"_Yeah?"_

"Find her."

_xxx_

It should have taken ten minutes – Jin got them there in half that. The jeep hadn't even come to a complete stop before James had propelled himself over the door and landed in the grass below. He saw Juliet's jeep, mangled and standing on its head, and choked down the bile in his throat. Stooping down, he checked out the interior. There were no visible traces of blood which meant she hadn't been in the vehicle when it landed – she couldn't have been thrown far. He could see Miles, Phil and Jerry combing the field – there was a lot of grass to cover. The other jeep was gone – as were the last two members of his team. He could only assume that Miles had sent them off further down the track. His deputy gave him a grim wave – they clearly hadn't found any sign of Juliet's being there.

James ploughed through the field aimlessly, Jin on his heels.

"Juliet!" he called. "Juliet!"

He didn't much care that they would have tried that already, he just pushed on forward calling out her name.

The sun was starting to creep over the horizon – light hitting the tips of the grass, painting them in crimson and warm yellow hues. James was grateful for the increase in visibility, though it did nothing to quell his panic.

"Anything?" he yelled.

He could see Phil shrug in the distance. "It's a big field."

James shot daggers at him – the man was lucky he wasn't within range of his fists.

"Juliet!" he called again, changing direction and charging through the tall brush. "Juliet!"

"_Nff."_

James spun around on the spot and looked over at Jin standing twenty feet away. "You hear that?"

Jin nodded.

"Juliet!" James yelled.

Jin was wading his way at an angle towards him. "Juliet?"

James watched as the Korean spotted something he hadn't.

"Jim," he said, gesturing for him to follow.

James raced through the grass towards Jin's position – he was kneeling down and James could make out the shape of someone lying in the grass below. "Juliet!" There was no real reason to continue calling her name but he did it anyway, several waves of relief washing through him. He dropped down next to her. "Juliet?"

She was bruised and there were grass burns on her arms and neck. He moved the hair out of her face, gently, trying not to panic at the head wound he had revealed. There was blood, not much but that didn't mean she couldn't be bleeding somewhere else.

"Juliet?" he said softly, brushing his fingers against her face, hoping it would rouse her. "C'mon, Juliet, c'mon baby, open your eyes."

Juliet's eyelids fluttered briefly – her head turning in the direction of his voice.

"That's right, c'mon." James was stroking the side of her cheek, using his other hand to examine her – checking for broken bones.

"Ungh," she mumbled and he could hear from the strain in her throat that she was in pain.

James pressed his hands against her ribs and gauged her reaction. She winced but otherwise didn't protest. Jin had trudged off – probably to get the jeep and James used the moment to slip his hands beneath her shirt and lift it up. There was bruise on the underside of her left ribcage, spreading down the side of her waist. He pressed the area lightly and Juliet moaned at the touch. The fact that she didn't cry out gave him hope that she was more bruised than broken.

James picked her up off the ground, holding her against him - he knew television would tell him not to but damn if he was waiting for a medical team. Juliet made a noise against him.

"Hang on, Blondie, we're gonna get you some help, okay?" he told her.

"Yencnkeyorhansffm," she mumbled.

James kissed the side of her head. "I didn't – what?" he replied, still systematically checking her for broken bones.

Juliet's eyes fluttered open – they were glassy and he could see she was disoriented but she managed to fix him with her gaze. "You can't keep your hands off me," she whispered.

James smiled, lifting her into his arms and carrying her back towards the jeep. "Well, darlin', who can blame me?"

He caught her smile before her eyes drooped and unconsciousness took over once more.

_xxx_

Jin must have called in to the Infirmary because by the time they got there, a team was waiting.

James wouldn't leave her side.

One of the nurses kept trying to usher him outside but he hadn't met a person in Dharmaville yet who could successfully stare him down. He stayed out of the way and let the team do their job but he made it clear to everyone in the room that he wasn't going anywhere.

Eventually, the doctor came over to him and placed a hand on James' arm. "It looks worse than it is."

"She gonna be okay?"

"We've given her meds for the pain but there are no broken bones. There'll be some swelling around the bruises and I'd like to monitor her for a bit – at least until tomorrow."

James nodded. "What about her head?"

"Superficial – more cut than trauma. The grass cushioned most of her fall and by her injuries it looked like she landed and rolled. Putting it simply, she was lucky to be thrown from the vehicle – otherwise it could have been a lot worse."

James nodded again. "Thanks, doc."

"_La Fleur, come in, over."_

He grabbed the walkie out of his pocket. "Yeah, Miles, go ahead."

"_The rest of the team found Willie's van – he wasn't in it. Apparently it broke down - I guess Willie must have abandoned it. We're doing a grid-by-grid – told 'em it was on your orders."_

"Thanks Enos," James replied.

He went to Juliet's bedside, pulling out a stool and sitting down beside her. James took her hand in his, brushing his lips against her fingers. He watched her chest rise and fall, taking in the gentle breathing that belied her injuries. This could have been any other morning and any minute now she'd wake up and stretch the sleep out of her body before making her way to the kitchen where he'd be buttering up toast and stirring two cups of coffee.

James kissed the top of her eyelids, knowing but not quite caring that he was in a world of trouble here – because for once in his sorry life it felt like the best kind of trouble. "I never had anythin' worth keepin'," he said quietly. "So the next time you decide to up and get all gung-ho, how 'bout you give me a call first? 'cause I ain't ready to let you go just yet."

"Gung-ho?" he heard her whisper.

"Thought you were meant to be sleepin'?" James told her, brushing his hand against her hair.

Juliet opened her eyes and turned her head towards him. "I'm trying, but there's a man sitting by my bedside and he won't shut up."

James smiled and kissed her hand. "Guess he just wants to make sure you're okay."

"Hm," Juliet mumbled, sleepily. "Guess he must really like me."

"Yeah," James replied, kissing her gently on the lips, "guess he does."

She gripped the side of his arm, suddenly. "James."

His eyes caught hers and he could sense her alarm. "What is it? Should I call the doctor?"

"No. It's Widmore," she replied. "Charles Widmore is behind everything that's happened. Somehow... somehow he convinced Willie to turn on us. Willie... Willie took the tapes... he switched the guns... he –"

"I know - we know Willie is our saboteur, he's one of _them_."

"No, James, I don't think he is but I think Widmore promised him something – money and a ride home, I don't know."

James nodded. "We've got teams out in the jungle looking for him, we'll find him."

Juliet shook her head. "He's here, he's coming here."

"You seriously think he'd come back?"

"He has to," Juliet replied. "Widmore told him that he could go home but before he does that... James, he has to kill Horace."

"Son of a –"

"Go," Juliet said.

"I ain't leavin' you."

"James, I'm fine, I'll _be_ fine. You need to go do your job."

James brushed his fingers across her cheek and kissed her, lingering a second longer than he should have. "I'll be back."

"I'll be here," she replied.


	24. Just The Way You Are

**Just The Way You Are**

Finding Willie turned out to be easier than anticipated. The kid was desperate and James knew more than anyone what desperation could drive a man to do.

Willie turned up on Horace's doorstep later that afternoon. The amiable mathematician opened the door and welcomed him in like he would any other member of the Dharma Initiative.

"Are you feeling alright? You look awfully pale," Horace told him. "How about some tea?"

Willie nodded his head and stood in the living room while Horace went to the kitchen. His hands shook as he accepted the steaming mug, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Would you care to sit down?" Horace asked.

Willie shook his head. "No thanks," he said quietly.

"You look nervous, has something happened?"

"Yes, no – I –"

"If there's something you need you should tell me now because I have an inspection in fifteen minutes. But I can postpone it if this is an urgent matter."

"Yes. There is something I – I need to do," Willie stammered.

"I can see that," Horace replied. "Is it something you _want_ to do?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well usually when someone gets excited about something, they don't _usually_ make a face like they're about to throw up. Are you sick?"

Willie shook his head, his hand moving over the pocket of his jumpsuit. "No, I – I just – I have to – I'm sorry I-"

"Have to what?" Horace replied. "Shoot me?"

Willie looked up, startled.

"That is why you're here isn't it, Willie, to kill me?"

Willie's eyes widened as he fumbled with his uniform, exposing the handle of a hidden pistol. He hadn't even wrapped his fingers around the hilt when he felt cold steel against the back of his head. Willie froze. He looked at Horace and took another glance around the room. Jin had rounded the corner of the hallway and Miles had surfaced from behind the kitchen counter-top. Both of them were pointing rifles at him.

"Hands where I can see 'em."

Willie didn't have to see him to recognize the low growl of Jim La Fleur's voice. Raising his hands in the air, he felt the security chief lift the gun out of his pocket and Jin had come forward and was now patting him down. James spun him around.

"How 'bout you an' me take a walk?" James said.

Willie cowered a little, backing into Jin who pushed him forward again. The glare in Jim La Fleur's eyes would have scared the hell out of the bravest man – Willie Sanchez knew he didn't stand a chance.

_xxx_

James threw Willie in the brig.

"Please – I didn't –" Willie began.

"You need to shut up, kid," James warned him.

"I had to –"

"What did Widmore offer you, money?"

"Yes, but –"

"An' it didn't occur to you that his _offer_ might have been _bogus_?" James yelled.

"But he promised –"

"The man's goin' behind his peoples' back tryin' to bring down the whole Dharma Initiative an' you think you can take him at his _word_?" James shoved him, knocking him back against the wall.

"I just – I didn't think it would get this far. I just wanted –"

"The money?"

Willie nodded, looking at the floor and James shoved him again.

"You ever think about the consequences of your actions, boy? You think about how many people you nearly got _killed_?" James spat. "_Juliet_ went out in one of those jeeps you sabotaged!"

Willie's eyes were wild. "Is she okay?"

James grabbed him by his collar and lifted Willie off his feet before slamming him against the wall. "_She could have died you stupid sonuvabitch!_"

He could see the fear in Willie's eyes and he knew it wasn't just because the pretty mechanic with the quick wit had nearly died because of something he did – it was because he was now stuck inside a six by eight cell with the one man who would kill him for doing it.

"Please don't hurt me!" Willie pleaded.

"You should've thought of that before you started wreckin' people's lives!" James hissed.

"I'm sorry," Willie sobbed. He was panicking now – the urge to flee prompting him to fight against James' restraint. He lashed out, pushing James in the chest and trying to get past him. James blocked him and Willie took a swing at him, landing a blow across his jaw. James shook it off, grabbed Willie by the neck as he tried to make a break for it and threw him up against the bars. Willie didn't even have time to react before James' fist connected with his nose. There was an unmistakable _crack_ and Willie screamed in pain before blood began pouring down his face.

James pulled the door shut on the cell and locked it before heading back up to Security.

_xxx_

Once he was at his desk, he picked up the phone. He heard – and ignored – the tone of disapproval when he asked the nurse on the other side to put Juliet on the liine. He had to wait two minutes while the Infirmary organized the connection but the second he heard her voice, he felt the tension in his shoulders release.

"_Hey,"_ she said.

"Hey yourself," he replied. "How're you feelin'?"

"_Like I got thrown from a car."_

James smiled.

"_I was feeling pretty good until they told me they want to keep me overnight," _she continued.

"I'll bring dinner." He could hear her smile.

"_Second date's shaping up to be just as good as the first,"_ she replied.

"What're you talkin' about? I planned dessert and everythin'," James grinned.

"_What kind of dessert?"_

"Well, what kind would you like?"

There was a pause on the line.

"You still there?" James asked.

"_Yeah, I'm still here,"_ Juliet replied.

"What were you thinkin'?"

"_Nothing."_

"Liar," he replied, knowing exactly what she was thinking. He heard her laugh softly into the receiver and damn she didn't do that nearly enough.

"_If I'm asleep when you come by, wake me up, okay?"_

"You got it," he replied.

"_So you caught him?"_ Juliet asked.

"How'd you know?"

"_Well you're on the phone flirting with me - that was my first clue."_

"Darlin' there's a baseball bat in my closet if I ever _stop_ flirtin' with you I want you to whack me over the head with it, okay?"

Juliet laughed again. _"Okay."_

"Yeah, we got him," James told her.

"_What are you going to do with him?"_

"Haven't decided that part just yet. He ain't a hostile so they're not gonna claim him," James replied. "An' Radzinsky's already barkin' for blood."

"_Don't kill him, James."_

"I may not have a choice."

"_There's always a choice. For whatever reason, Willie wanted the money that Widmore was offering and he was desperate enough to kill so he could get off this Island with it. We may not understand his motives but you and I both understand his reasoning."_

James sighed. "Well you're clearly the sensible one in this relationship," he muttered.

"_What relationship would that be?"_ And he knew she was smirking. _"Just – go easy on him,"_ she continued before he could say anything more, _"it's been a long week."_

"Yeah, I guess it has," he replied softly.

"And James?"

"Yeah?"

"If _I_ can't be gung-ho, neither can you."

He chuckled. "Fine. But only 'cause you asked so nicely."

_xxx_

It was late by the time he finished but he stopped by the Infirmary anyway with a small tub of ice-cream and two spoons. He figured she'd eaten but he'd promised her dessert and Amos on the kitchen staff owed him one after James had looked the other way when he'd caught him growing pot in his back room.

Juliet was asleep when he arrived, so he opened up the tub and sat down beside her. He knew she asked him to wake her but he didn't know how long she'd been out and her recovery was more important than his need for conversation.

He was on his fifth spoonful when she stirred and turned her head to look at him, eyes bright and impossibly blue.

"Thought you were going to wake me," she croaked, voice rough with sleep.

"You just looked so damn peaceful," he said, digging his spoon back into the ice-cream. "That an' I knew if I woke you up then I'd have to share."

Juliet smiled. "Can you work the bed?"

"Is that code for somethin'?" he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes. "I need to sit up."

"Aah," he grinned. "I'll give that a try." He adjusted the bed so that she was no longer lying flat. "Better?"

"Mm hm," she replied, giving him a smile he knew she didn't give to anyone else.

James lifted the spoon out of the tub and held it up to her lips.

"I don't remember the last time someone took this much care of me," she admitted, once she'd swallowed the spoonful.

"What're you talkin' about it? I remember eight very _painful_ weeks runnin' around after you and your broken foot."

Juliet blushed. "I wasn't that bad."

"You made me move that ants nest from under the porch 'cause you were afraid they were gonna crawl down your cast and – I quote – _set up shop_."

"You _also_ rescued me when I got stuck in the bathtub," Juliet pointed out. "_and_ you got to carry me to the bedroom wrapped up in a soaking wet towel."

James grinned and handed her another spoonful. "I remember."

Juliet swallowed the ice-cream and then whacked him on the arm with her spoon.

"Hey!" he cried, rubbing his arm in mock-pain.

"So what happened?"

"Well I didn't get any, if that's what you're askin'," James teased.

Juliet gave him a look. "With _Willie_," she replied.

"Well I _may_ have broke his nose," James told her.

"James," Juliet said.

"That was _before_ you told me not kill the kid - _an'_ he jumped me," James replied defensively.

Juliet put a hand on his knee and James sighed.

"He'll spend the rest of the week in the brig. The sub docks next Thursday an' he'll be on it."

Juliet nodded. "Is that it?"

"I went out to see Richard."

"James!"

"It needed to be done. I told him about Willie an' more importantly – I told him what Charles Widmore was up to. As far as I'm concerned it's an internal matter and Richard'll take care of it on his end."

Juliet smiled.

"What?" James asked.

"I'm proud of you," she replied.

James leaned forward and kissed her. She grinned against his lips, bringing one hand up to cup the back of his neck and pull him down next to her. He smiled and kissed her again.

"Thank you, James," she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

"For what?"

"For finding me."

"Blondie, I'd've looked under every rock and through every inch of grass to find you," he replied.

Juliet kissed his chin. "That's not what I meant."

James ran his fingers across her cheek before bending his head to kiss her once more.

"I know," he replied.


End file.
